Second to the Right
by Epic0n
Summary: He would become the boy who never grew up. Little did he know that he was destined to; all he had to do was take the chance... Updates are sporadic, so "follow" to stay up to date.
1. Chapter 1

The playground square was half-colored with green grass and grey stones, surrounded on three sides by black bars that jutted up and crossed to unclimbable heights. To everyone outside of the orphanage, this was a prison. To the orphans of St. Augustine's House for Abandoned and Delinquent Children, this was paradise. The moment the bells rang from the classrooms –the signal for recess- they all rushed into the green square to play and enjoy a few measly minutes away from studies, even settling with the old balls and sticks for games.

But none of the boys looked out beyond the black bars- except one.

That boy's head leaned against the black bars, holding onto them like a prisoner. Yet he wasn't sad at all; in fact, his head stayed up in an optimistic stare towards the people, streets and the sky. It was the only time David got to see the world beyond the bars of the orphanage.

While it's true that he was able to look out from the huge windows in the sleeping quarters, here it looked alive, like there was more to it than what he saw at night. Some of the people even slowed down to stare at his pale, freckled face, like he was on display, but never to talk to him. He knew already that a fault with living behind these bars was getting ignored from the outside. Orphans weren't liked very much in London.

Yet he kept looking out, regardless of the stares. Maybe, just maybe, he would find his parents, his best chance to get to the world outside. He had always dreamed of them all living in a place where there was always color, places to run, trees to climb, and nightlights to help him sleep at night.

Yet here, on an autumn Saturday in 1913, clouds blocked the sky and colored his world with dull shades. The only bright colors were from the leaves still on the trees, but they were slowly drying and taken away by the wind. London's autumns were always grey; the skies that were filled with sun now replaced with clouds and rain. Maybe that's why everyone else appeared so dreary and bland, including the administrating Nuns.

Maybe the outsiders thought he was in a time out, that he deserved to be behind the bars of the orphanage. But they wouldn't know anything about him if they didn't ask. Plus they were mostly what he began to call _grown up._

He had learned to repulse a new word- _grown up_. It had bad thoughts attached to it, especially since it came from the person he least liked in the Orphanage's administration: Father Kenneth, the only man among the nuns, with cold eyes and a sturdy white beard. He had said it before, when the 12th year boys, like him, were starting to learn more of the New Testament. He had said that this was the "first step to becoming what you all want to be- good _**grown-ups**_." Anything Father had to say never crossed well with him, even if Father rarely spoke to the boys outside of sermons.

He was supposed to have learned a lot today, especially after what the class was told at the beginning of the lesson. Sure he wasn't able to pay attention, but that day he just didn't want to hear it at all. The teachers all blamed it on his daydreams, which he suddenly drifted of into. Those same dreams enthralled his friends at night, warming up the cold dormitory, as he spun a tale about some place they never saw or heard of before. Places where clouds flew below the ground, where water flowed upwards, where people could fly higher than birds, places where people were so tiny they used prams to get around, or where ravens could talk and pigeons wore little suits and walked with canes and brown top-hats.

Yet time always flew when he lost himself in daydreams. The end-of-recess bell rang him back into reality, into the one thing he hated most; the single-file line back to studies.

He was the only one who always looked down to avoid getting attention to his face. Even though some didn't mind, others still avoided him. Most of them were new kids, and they spread the rumor they heard from veteran boys; he had a rare disease that gave him hideous spots on his face.

They marched in tight rows as their hard shoes clomped on the cobble-stone floor. He followed his row of classmates to the classroom, shorter than most of them, until a Nun walk straight up to him and got his full attention.

"David, please come with me. Father wants to see you." It was Sister Agnes, and she looked like she was trying to hold back a smile.

The surrounding boys didn't know what to think as he was pulled out of line. Out of the Hundreds of boys here, why _him?_

David's mouth was shut tight in fear.

She chuckled a little, which disconcerted him.

They walked the rest of the way not only in silence, but at a quicker pace than usual. The booth was on the other side of the building, and past the huge sanctuary, shrouded in darkness due to the absence of light, near the Priest's office.

When she went to open the booth, a stench of garlic, wrinkles and some powder rose up and smacked him in the face. It took a while to get used to, but it smelled terrible as he went inside.

As she shut the door, Sister Agnes assured him she would be there.

_Probably to snoop on what Father Priest says. _

After the door closed, the only light was a small candle in the corner of the small quarters. The rest of its walls needed serious cleaning, as they looked black from the light's reflection, or lack thereof.

Then he heard the door open on the other side and as he saw a silhouette of a person walk in, he immediately bowed and took of his hat, a muscle reflex of respect. He came so close to the seat that he began to hear mumblings of Latin- David never liked Latin. Something about knowing a language he'll never use in real life made him despise it.

Then the mumbling stopped.

"David, I presume?" His voice was raspy and direct.

"Yes, Father Priest."

"I've called you in here for something very important. So important that I needed to tell you in private."

"Of course, Father."

He cleared his throat and sealed David's fate.

"I thought there was something special about you the moment you came into our lives, that. I've been told that you were adopted twice, yes?"

David felt like he should have known that he did _twice._

"Well, every time you left, you seemed to find a way back here. That's how I knew that G-d had a plan for you. As you grow up (_there are those words again)_ before our eyes, I've seen you become the man that everyone else wants. I can safely say that you'll be able to take my place someday, with proper training. You understand?"

David paused in utter disbelief.

"I'm to... replace you... as the Priest?"

"Correct, my son. As of tomorrow, you will be trained to replace me when I pass on."

Even when in shock, David only questioned Father Priest, to spite his rules.

"Tomorrow? But d-does that mean I can't be adopted? I can't leave the orphanage? Ever?"

After a tiny pause, Father made it clear.

"Yes, David. You will stay here. The Nuns have already taken you off of the list for adoption. No one else will take you away from what G-d has intended for you. No evil shall taint your soul."

The next question just slipped out, without any thought.

"What did you see in me that… made me so…different?"

Father sounded more and more confident by the minute.

"I'm glad you asked. You have all the proper traits of a true servant of G-d: humble, kind, respectful and disciplined."

_How?_

"Everyone else can see that you were born to be a messenger of the word of G-d. You will be a greater person than all of the other boys in the orphanages, no matter what they become."

"But I-"

"No more questions David. You are missing your studies. Now, accept this message with honor and walk with pride that G-d has bestowed upon thee. Concentrate and excel in your studies. Become the man G-d and everyone else wants you to be. Please forgive me for leaving you now, as I must return to my own business now. Sister will return you to your class."

…

Sister Agnes was ecstatic, but David felt a depressing shock that not only frustrated him, but crushed his dreams. He would never be able to walk out the doors of this place. She kept saying how much pride he should feel, how much honor it is to be chosen, but he felt worse and worse. She never once looked down to see his feet shuffle, his face towards the ground. That was the problem with this place; they never cared to look at the children's faces. Only one Nun did, and she was the closest person that David had to being a Mother.

Yet as he returned to his class, the teaching Nun's lecture turned into white noise. He had always thought some nice couple would adopt him, take him into their world and he'll make the most of it. But now he'd never leave, in order to fulfill some "destiny" he never knew about, could never question, and could never change.

…

Sister Deborah was livid. Agnes had just told her the "news" and she wouldn't even sit down. All she could think of was moving her legs as fast as possible to Father Kenneth's office to give a piece of her mind. She would demand an explanation, and then find a way to get him back on the list. It never took her so fast to reach his office. She rapped only once on the door before she heard a surprisingly soft "come in."

She kept some self-control as she walked in and started the conversation with:

"Good morning, Father." She put on a calmer smile.

"What can I do for you…Sister?" He seemed to relish it, like it was fun to call her, or any other nun, a lower rank. She hated that hidden contempt he carried around his neck like a cross.

She closed the door and promptly sat down. "Well, Father, I… I heard you made your choice for a… successor."

"Yes, Sister. I quite have. And you of all the Sisters should be able to understand why." He shifted at his desk, as if finding a comfortable position in his big red chair.

"Why what?" She sat upright, trying to hold her dignity.

"Why I chose David. I'm sorry for not asking you about him."

She sat in silence, looking away from his pale gaze. Sister Deborah never expected him to apologize; he was supposed to start droning on about him before she could cut him off in dramatic fashion.

"Thank you for accepting. Now that that's been taken care off, you may go now."

Her eyes shot back at his slouching figure, shrouded by the dim light and small behind the mountain of books on his desk.

"Well… With- With all due respect, Father, that's not why I came in here."

"Oh?" His bony hands gripped the arm rests.

"I really don't understand why you selected him."

He took a fast breath. "Well, that's a shame. Everyone else knows why."

She tried again. "Father Sir, please explain why. I would like to know."

"…Alright… Sister. If you must know, then here's why-"

He shifted forward again. "Because he's the one. The chosen one. I can feel it."

"Father, Sir, what on earth are you talking about?"

"I just know it. The way Moses was chosen by G-d, I just know. David is special, Sister."

"But how can you be so sure? Have you asked about any other boys to the Nuns?"

"Do you not think, **Sister**, that I wouldn't consider any other boys?"

"No, not at all, it's just that there are others that are better, more suited to be 'chosen'."

He shifted even further towards the desk, towards her. She stood straight.

"Are you questioning my _judgment_, **Sister**?"

Her heart beat hard in her chest. Her patience ran dry.

"Well, is it right to keep a good boy from a _family_, **Father**?"

The anger grew like a darkness creeping through the cracks in the room.

"How dare you-"

She stood up in defiance, the first time since she came here.

"He's just a boy, Father! And you are denying what G-d has offered him on His good green Earth! Do you think he wants to be here, Father? To be your little puppet to serve you even after you pass? That is a cruel, heartless thing to do, and I demand a good reason for it! You and I both know what would happen if you were wrong, and that sin is too great to bear!"

"Sister-"

"And how are you so sure? Have you seen Julius? He's the first one to offer grace, and he's one of the _older_ boys!"

"SISTER-"

"Or Jonathan, the lead choir boy? Or Maximillian, the star pupil-"

"ENOUGH! SISTER, ENOUGH! Sit _**DOWN**_!"

She stopped in her tracks. Fast breaths ran through her chest as her legs shook out of plain sight.

"First off, I NEVER SIN. How _dare_ you accuse me to faulting in such a way, like I am an old fool! You may think you know him, but you're just one little _stupid _girl! The rest of us see him as a king waiting to be crowned, as he shall be."

He stood up and approached her chair, the defiance still in her eyes.

"No matter what you can say or do, he will stay here. The law shall not stand in the way of G-d's Will, as you foolishly think it will. And I'm never wrong, Sister. Look at where I am and where you are. Don't you remember to honor thy Father…Sister?"

Her courage was ebbing away faster with every circle he made around her, like a lion circling the prey.

"So, should you see him again, I want you to tell him how wonderful it is to become a man of the cloth. Tell him why it is so important to stay here and what demons and dangers are out there. Or do you want me to remind you of the corner where you came from?"

Her eyes grew wide and wet as she held down a sob.

"Good. I must go pray again now for another soul that need to be redeemed. I would watch what I say next time…Sister."

He left her in the office, her posture bent over in a disgraced heap in the chair.


	2. Chapter 2

The day flew like a blurry painting, hastily made and not given enough time to dry.

After his class in reading and writing, at a grade lower than the other boys his age, then supper, then a second class in Bible, he asked permission to go to Sister Deborah's office at the next recess.

_She would be able to fix this. She could make me not have to become a priest!... I hope._

He always saw her as his mother, even if she didn't hug him as often.

He ran to Sister Deborah's office and walked right in. The afternoon light beckoned him in as it sat on his favorite chair and changed Sister Deborah's sitting, focused figure into a silhouette. She knew he was there but was focused on something else, so David silently waited for her to finish writing. He loved her office so much that he could just sit there for hours as she worked. There was just something about it- maybe it was the bright colors of the wood, or the big window behind her, or the plants, always green, growing in a corner pot. Fortunately she was finished soon after he sat down, and she looked up with familiarity to the other side of the desk.

"Hello there David. How are you?" He could tell she was giving her trademark smile, the one with the little smirk on the side of her mouth. The window got bright this time of day, when the sun tried to get one last glimpse of London.

"Good. I guess."

"Good. Anyways, I heard that someone met with the Father this morning," She jovially said as she leaned over the desk.

"Yeah…"

"Well? Aren't you excited for when you turn 12?"

"Not really."

"Oh, come on David. You'll love it. You'll learn so much."

"But I'm still so far behind."

She paused to give him a sympathetic frown.

"Yes, the things that happen when you lose all of your learning when you were seven years old."

Thinking the conversation was over, she turned back to her work.

"Sister Deborah, did I get adopted before I was seven?"

She looked up again. "I never told you?"

"No, just that one time."

"Oh. Yes, you were actually adopted before, when you were seven days old."

"Seven _days _old?!" He didn't know what to think of that.

"Yes. A nice couple that lived across the river loved you almost immediately. Brought you home with them the same day."

He leaned forward, weighed down with new curiosity. "Who were they?"

"Oh, I don't remember. We have it in the records somewhere. I think they had a 'Jasper' in their name somehow. Was it 'Jasperton'? I think it was."

"So, what happened? How did I end up back here?"

"Well, I think one of the Nuns took a stroll one night and just found you near Kensington Gardens. The most peculiar thing I've ever seen. I've never heard of a baby leave a crib and travel so far away from its house. At seven _days old_, mind you."

"So, the same way I got back before?"

"When you were older? Well, yes. Huh. Maybe you do like it here."

"Can you convince Fathe Priest that I don't want to be trained?"

"Oh, David. Once Father's made up his mind, there's nothing I can do. He has the final word around here."

"Will I be able to speak to him?"

"David, you know you can't."

He was almost out of the door before she added:

"Besides, he'll be out tomorrow morning to speak to a Cardinal. Please have a good night."

He left soon afterwards. Then there was dinner, another class in Bible –a different class for each age group- then evening prayers before going up to the sleeping quarters to wash and get to bed.

That's when the nightmares began.

The moment his mind was allowed to wander, he found himself in an unusual world. The ground felt like sand under his feet as he walked through what seemed to be a desert under a dark sky. Then he looked up, and the sky was an endless swirl of dark blues and light purples. It was as marvelous as you could picture it, spotted with the brightest stars, piercing through the dancing colors and shining down on his world. As he took this all in, one star got his attention. It wasn't the brightest one, but it was in the perfect place. Something felt right about where it was in the sky.

Then the ground grabbed his attention. He tried to move but his legs were stuck. He couldn't understand what was happening, but as soon as he tried to move away, a platform formed under him, in a way that he was on the edge. Then it began to rise. Then the other parts rose with it, the shifting sands hardening up to stone, glass and even wood. Before he could even think, he noticed that the setting was becoming a skyline. His platform continued to grow as others slowed down. As he recognized where he was, he became scared. As soon as he could blink five times, he was on the clock tower he had seen in pictures, but never in person. It stood over what he thought looked like London, and he realized that he had a fear of heights

But he was always curious. He looked down, and the ground was so far below him, he clenched the wall, which felt like brick. Then he looked over the edge another time for the thrill of it. But this time he leaned too far-and his grip slipped.

Those seconds when you know you're about to fall make your heart leap, your stomach clench itself, and your body scream "panic". He screamed as he fell to his supposed death, the ground seeming to accept him in closer embrace. But he awoke before he reached the ground.

His heart was leaping out of his chest, his pajama gown wet with sweat, and wide-eyed from the ordeal. His body trembled from the realness of the danger. Then he saw someone tiptoeing close to his bed.

_Oh no_.

"David, was that you?"

The only person with that voice was-

"Sorry George. It was just- just… oh, it was all so strange."

"What happened? You almost woke up everybody else on my row." He sounded either concerned or scolding. Either way David felt terrible.

"I had a nightmare. A really frightening one."

"Oh, I see. What did your Mum look like?" As George sat on the edge of the bed, David could tell he calmed down. He knew that David was always strange in some way, even if he was there for only a few weeks.

"I didn't have that nightmare. I dreamt…"

David was hesitant because he could barely remember it.

"This is going to sound crazy."

"Dreams are meant to be crazy, David."

"Okay so…I was high up on a tower."

"Huh? What kind of tower?" He knew how unusual David's mind worked. He didn't know that he woke up someone else a row down from the bed.

"Well, it was a clock tower, and I think it was in… London?"

"You mean here? Like a few minutes away, **this** London, with the clock tower? You've never seen it."

"Yes I have."

"When?"

"Well- um, I remember it somehow. I think Sister Deborah told me at some point. But otherwise, why wouldn't I know it?"

Then another voice: "Maybe you can make up London just as much you can a mountain."

They both turned to see Nathan walk towards them in a slow, yawning walk.

"Sorry. What did I miss?" David made him a place to sit on the bed.

"David had some sort of nightmare. Did I wake you?"

"No," He shrugged it off, "I was just nodding off here and there. When I heard you guys talking, I thought- might as well get in on the conversation. Did you dream about the story you were supposed to tell tonight?"

"No, not at all. This felt too real."

George kept egging him on. For some reason, he just wanted to know what happened.

"So, What about this clock tower- you were standing on it?"

He hesitated to answer more as more of the images filled his head, to the point that it scared him to talk about it. But he had two friends to tell it to. They had always been nice to him, especially after they learned he could tell stories.

"Well, I… I was on the edge of it and… I became afraid of heights..."

George was unfazed. "Okaay. That makes sense…I think. But how did you end up there?"

"Well, um, the whole place was originally made of sand-"

"Wait- sand? Now this is definitely a dream. You never said anything about sand-"

"How do you know there's no sand in London?"

"I just know these things, Nathan. Well, David?"

"You have to hear the rest. Oh, you must… Then I looked down and… fell…all… the… way… to the ground."

"Well…Did you hit it?"

"No. I… I think I woke up in time. And that's all I remember."

The two boys just stared at him; one curious, the other fascinated.

"…That was it, David?"

"Just 'it'? George, I don't know what to think. I fell a long way down"

"David, it's just a nightmare. And I can't interpret that. I don't have any more of an idea of it than you."

"Honest?"

"Honest. And I'll make sure to keep this quiet."

"You won't tell anybody?"

"Of course. Speaking of which, why were you taken out of line today- I mean yesterday?"

David hesitated to answer- The other two simultaneously understood. Something happened.

"I…was chosen by Father Priest to replace him. I'm going to be the next priest. So I'm… to stay here…forever…to train..."

The words sank in at the pause. Nathan dropped his jaw, exposing his buck teeth. George took aback.

"So that means… You can't leave?"

David nodded. He let hopelessness wet his eyes. If what he just saw wasn't a nightmare, that was.

"Oh, no."

"They'll never let me leave now!" Some sobs escaped.

"David, please. Be quiet-"

"They never even asked me beforehand. They must think that I want to grow up to be a… a priest?! I don't! I won't!"

"David, quiet! You want to wake everyone up?"

"There, there, Dave. Don't get so…well, sad about this."

"What on Earth are you talking about, Nathan? How could I not be upset? I'm doomed!"

Nate ran his thin fingers through his short black hair. "Um, well, there must be _some_ way to avoid this disaster."

"We could run away."

"David, are you sure?"

"Yes! I can't stay here any longer! I don't want to be a priest!"

"Any idea how to, Nathan?"

"Maybe… I haven't found a way out yet. But, you know what they say- t**here's always a way**."

"Yeah… and I think I got it."

"Exactly- wait, you found a way out?"

"Yep, I know just what to do."

"David, why haven't you tried that before? You've been here longer, so you know this place better, no?"

"Well, I guess I was just so scared of leaving. I would be all alone out there. What about you? You _came_ from there."

"Yeah, but…I don't know. What was your plan?"

"We escape at recess. Sneak around the Nuns and exit through one of the doors in the Church."

"Won't that be too risky? There are Nuns _everywhere_. And the Head Priest-"

"He won't be there."

"What do you mean-"

"He usually walks to another Church to meet with a Cardinal. Sister Deborah told me once."

"She seems to be the only nice Nun in this whole place, doesn't she?"

"So that's it then."

He turned back to make sure no one was looking, then talked in a low whisper.

"We escape through the Church at a side door! It's good enough for me. I just don't know why I didn't think of this sooner."

"That's because you never thought about escaping, did you Nathan? What do you say, David?"

He stared down at the ground, shifting around as though his pajamas became itchy.

"I…don't know if I…well…I just don't think that…"

"That what? Why are you so afraid?"

"David's never been out there before, have you?" Nathan looked back to David with inquisitive eyes.

"Well, yes but… a long time ago."

"Oh, come on. It will be much better than this David. Trust me, I have friends out there. They can take care of us."

"Yeah…m-me too," Nathan interjected, "Come on David. We've been out there before. It's not as scary as you've been told."

"I… I don't know if I want to…"

Nathan couldn't understand what the problem was.

"Look, if you stay here, you're going to stay forever, right? Don't you remember what you told us? You wouldn't want to stay here if it means being _that._"

_You can say that again._

David looked back at him with wider eyes and sad eyebrows, flashing his brown eyes in full color with a touch of dissonance.

"So, when recess is called, we'll sneak behind the Nuns, through… how will we get to the other side of the building?"

"There's only one way," David replied with hopelessness, "The catacombs-"

Nathan interrupted, "Ooh, right. Good idea."

George finished "-and through the Church's back side door to freedom! Okay, everybody?"

David still wasn't sure what to do. On the one hand, it was the most familiar place for him on Earth. Second, it was his home for years. He couldn't take himself away from it so soon.

Then it happened. He suddenly got a burst of clarity. A sweeping calm overtook his body and he was able to quickly think out the whole situation.

He wouldn't have to grow up to be a priest! That's all he needed to know. And that's all it took to want to leave. And he could only think of one thing to say:

"Yes. Let's get out of here."

Nathan shook a joyful fist and George grew a smile.

"Then it's settled. We'll be leaving tomorrow. I'm going to miss the beds. They were the only soft things in this place."

"I miss the outside more than anything. I can't wait to see Oliver, Johnny and Willy again. We'll get right back to what we do best."

"Who are they? You never told me about them."

"I didn't?"

"No."

"Oh, so wait until you hear this." George grew a huge smirk on his face.

"So I never tell you how I stole a carriage and sent it into the Thames River once?"

"You _what?_"

Even Nathan was wide-eyed.

"How?"

"You really had to be there."

Nathan's face switched to cross. "Really, George?"

"Okay, guys. I'll tell you first who owned it. It was the judge's"

"Wait- which judge? The one that locked us away?"

"Yep." George beamed with pride. "Well, that was before we were locked up."

As he started, his grammar faded to his most beloved accent, the one he hid from the Nuns there.

"It happened when I must've been you're age, or close to it, a few years ago, something like four years. Yeah that makes sense. Anyway, we had it all planned. Me, Johnny, and Willy, - they were me best mates-we made a bet with the mates at a theatre that if we stole the carriage and horse of the judge's, they would give each of us 10 pounds. So we started with getting any carrots we could find, since Johnny said he saw someone give a carrot to a horse. Then that nigh', we followed the judge back to his flat, to the place where he kept his carriage. It also happened to be where he kept his horse, so it became easier to bribe the horse with the carrots as we strapped the carriage to it and gave it a good slap to move. The horse gave such a neigh and loud gallops that it woke up everyone on the block, but we were long gone by the time the judge realized.

"Then the bobbers got on our tail. We were able to keep moving because Oliver thought of the idea to attach a carrot to a stick with a string and the horse kept trying to get it. So we were in a chase that lasted for a long time. We needed to lose them fast. So we all jumped onto the horse and cut the carriage lose so that when we turned onto the street parallel to the Thames River, it broke off and flew into the drink, while we escaped with the horse."

"That's amazing, George!"

"Yeah, that's actually as crazy as some of David's stories."

Before David seemed the least happy to leave, but after that burst, the high from making that choice, and that story, he grinned from cheek to freckled cheek.

After quick "good-nights" to each other, Nathan quickly leapt into bed to catch as much sleep as he could. George didn't leave until he told him his favorite phrase:

"See you in the sunlight, David."

But while he should have gone to bed, David walked to the large window and took another look outside.

Tall flats blocked out half of the view, while large clouds covered the other part. He had seen stars over London before, but now the world outside was painted with the light from the streetlight and nearby windows. The street looked so empty at this time of night. The world was asleep again, while he sat in the protection of the orphanage. Soon, he would be out there and he wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand, he wouldn't have to follow every instruction to a tee. On the other hand, he wouldn't be protected anymore; he would have to follow Nathan and George forever if he wanted to survive. He had only heard bad things about the world outside. He didn't want to die out there, but then again he would in here too.

So even though he realized he had nothing to lose, he still didn't want tomorrow to come. He never felt so scared in his life.


	3. Chapter 3

All he knew was that he wished he could stay in bed that next day; that he would get a fever and go to a hospital, far away from any of the problems he was about to face. He kept wondering what would happen if they got caught.

He usually fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. He tossed and turned, to no avail. Instead, he just lay there, trying to remember what had happened in that dream. It was so peculiar. He stared at the cracked white ceiling as the glowing street lights from the outside dripped into the room through the huge windows. Meanwhile the other children were deep into their own dreams, some giggling in their sleep, others talking nonsense, which made him snicker quietly as he wondered what they were thinking.

Maybe they were dreaming about their old families, or their adoptive ones, how much fun they will have once they get out of here, away from this dull and nasty world. He had been in here for too long, almost 12 years. Yet he didn't remember what it was like at all to live outside, as if he was born when he was 8 years old. Sister Deborah told of how she first met him, as an infant in Kensington Gardens that desperately needed a mother. She never really told him anything else about where he came from. Just that he was adopted twice.

His eyelids eventually began to close. He must have gone to sleep then because it felt like a moment before the wake-up bell rung twice.

_Well, that was fast_. _How long was I asleep? _

The light that had been from the streetlights just a moment ago was now completely sun covered up by cloud. Two Nuns came in armed with pails of water and begun walking through the aisles, urging the boys to get up or facing a bucketful of water. They weren't afraid to do so either.

After seeing that ritual again he could only imagine the consequences of doing something as daring as running away. They'd lock each of them up in separate dungeons. Maybe in different orphanages; after all, there were plenty in London, so he heard. His hands shook violently as he slowly put on his uniform and went downstairs for prayers.

While everyone goes on with their business – getting up, washing up, getting downstairs to Sunday Mass – George stayed in bed, refusing to get up, even though he was one of the newer boys in the Orphanage.

"Get out of bed _now_! I'm sick and tired of coming back here to wake you up! Now, _up_!" For this boy, a sprinkle of water just won't do. So she dumped the whole bucket on him, the cold water splashed all over the bed, mostly on him. He gave such a cracked shriek so loud that David spat out his water mid-swish and winced.

"YEEOW! Sister, are you mad? I could have drowned, or maybe died sooner of pneumonia!"

"OUT." The nun pointed to the bathroom.

He groggily lifted himself out of bed, which took him longer than anyone else and slowly made his way to the bathroom. As luck would have it, the sink next to David was empty. George immediately took it, and David had waited for him.

"Get a better half of sleep?"

"Actually, yes. It was as fast as a blink."

"**_What are you two still doing here_**?"

Sister Agnes, one of the nuns in charge of the whole orphanage, had come back up to check on the room to find that two of them hadn't left yet. She stood furiously by the doorway of the bathroom, her big, red, stern face glaring at them. It was her usual look, with her hands at her hips like she was trying to squeeze herself.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"Why is she asking us?" George whispered, his back to her, pretending to wash his face. "We don't know any more than she does." David held back a giggle. The nun caught it, and anyone else would have heard the tenacity in her voice subside at him.

"David, you think it's funny? You think that missing most of mass is _funny_?"

"No Sister Agnes," David said.

"So why are you still here, dear David?"

"I-I don't know."

"Well**, I **know where you should be**,** and I expect you to go there **_immediately_**," she said with a firm look in her eye to David.

"Yes Sister."

They both knew how David was "the chosen one", so George expected her expression to contort to a much angrier emotion when she turned to him.

David obediently listened, took one more look back at George, who washed his face for the fifth time, before he rushed downstairs to mass.

The attached church to the orphanage was huge, the high ceiling decorated with paintings and large windows on its sides depicting scenes from the Bible. It was capable of housing over 500 people, and almost every single one was filled for Sunday Mass. David snuck in at the perfect time, while the audience stood and sung the hymns and psalms. He quietly searched for an aisle seat, away from the nuns and the rest of the orphans that stood in front, found one and just stood there, pretending to sing along. When they all received time for their own personal prayers, he prayed that something good come out of all this. It was the first time he did so with emotion, but it soon faded after they all left the church wing together.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't long until the bells were heard throughout the school wing.

Recess. This is it.

Time to go.

As the boys flooded the playground like a river, David slipped behind the Nuns back inside. To avoid the clopping of his shoes on the stone floor becoming massive echoes he took them off and walked barefoot on the cold stones until-

"Psst…David!"

"George! Nat-"

"SHH-QUIET! You want us to get caught?!"

"Sorry, George. Where are we going again?"

"Just follow us."

"Ooh. Nice idea to take off your shoes. We just waited here for you. Why does everyone seem to get all of the good ideas?"

The three boys tip-toed through the halls in their bare feet, reaching the other side of the hall without being seen. The school wing was a separate building, joined at the hip to the church and dormitory with no connection to the other building except through the main entrance. The only way to the other side was through the catacombs, and that was prohibited for any child to enter…for good reason.

There was no light down there, only available by torches. They looked at each other in sincere fright. None of them had been there before, and Nathan was clearly afraid of the dark. But it was the only way. The only thing they knew was that it was a straight line to the other building.

So they silently walked, step by step, down the stairs, hands held tightly to the other person. George then David then Nathan entered the world of darkness the moment the door was shut.

Silence. Darkness. They couldn't speak to each other not to give anything away. They could only hold hands as they walked blindly through the room that housed the dead. Even with wide open eyes they couldn't see anything. All they had was their hands and feet guiding them. The only thing they smelled was the musty odors of decay and worn-out wood.

They knew about ghosts and demons. They knew how they waited in the dark to scare and terrorize the living. None of them knew if they were down here. Maybe there was a priest down here that woke up and waited for something to possess…

One step. At a time. They held their breaths. David couldn't believe what he was doing; all this darkness let him think more of it. He was breaking so many rules; going into the catacombs, running away from the orphanage, disobeying a priest, leaving Sister Deborah…

He still thought of her as a Mother. How could he leave his mother?

Suddenly he felt a tug. A strong one. Then he felt steps under his feet. They made it. They were closer to freedom, to the light. He didn't like the feeling of being blind. This was why he wanted a nightlight wherever he went. At the orphanage, it was the streetlamps.

A surge of happiness surged through him as they all quickly stepped up the stairs. Light was just behind the door. They could see it. They never felt more grateful than then to smell the weird but tolerable smells of the orphanage.

They stuck to the door for a long while, waiting to hear if anyone was coming. They were used to the loud footsteps of the Nuns. George creaked the door open just enough to fit all of their skinny bodies through, as they came out into an empty hallway that would empty out into the main sanctuary. They made it. They were so close. The door to the outside was staring at them in the face. That's all it was; a straight line.

Then they heard footsteps. Someone was coming! And faster than usual!

It was Father Kenneth! _What was he doing here?!_

"What on earth is going on out here?"

They didn't say anything. They just ran.

The three boys exploded into the sanctuary, as Father Kenneth called for the guards to catch them. Then he saw who the third boy was.

"_The chosen one? What-?_"

They got closer. And closer. Nathan reached the door and pried at it.

"It's STUCK!"

"WHAAT?!"

"It's not opening! We'll have to break it down!"

"Or just opening it would be nice!"

"Come on. David put some back into it!"

All three boys pushed hard on the door, heaving and pushing to get the rusty hinges to move.

"C'mon! C'mon! Budge, please!"

"Why. Won't. This. Door. OPEN?!"

The hinges gave way as Father reached for George's shirt. He missed, and they burst out into the sunlight, the warm air, the calm winds, the colorful leaves...

And the guards.

"Don't stop, David! Keep running!"

The guards were younger policemen, hired to every orphanage to keep the orphan "scum" off of the streets. They were about to be tested.

But Nathan was fast, and David was quicker. They turned on the hair and spun away from the guards as they grabbed for them.

One of the fugitives wasn't so lucky.

"NO! LET ME GO!"

David immediately spun around.

"GEORGE! NO!"

The two men held him in grips too strong to break. He wrestled against them, trying to wiggle out somehow.

He realized that all was lost.

"David! Nathan! Run! Don't stop! Just go! NOW!"

David's tears kept him from moving. George was so kind…

"David, let's go! Come ON!"

A good push was all that was needed to get him moving as the orphanage swallowed up yet another victim.

They never wanted to stop running. The sun wasn't as bright as before. The blurs of color were deeper shades, not the brighter kinds. They stopped at an alleyway off of the main street to take a breather. They didn't even realize that they lost their shoes.

"Well, David. We did it! Huh. We're free!" He couldn't hold himself back as he pumped fists of celebration, jumping around like a jack-in-a-box.

David just sat across from him, his legs stretched out in front of him.

"I guess. We still lost George, though."

Nathan acted as if he had just got out of a tight space, stretching his arms over his head and taking huge breaths of fresh air.

"Well, who cares? We got out of there."

He looked down to glaring, wide blue hazel eyes.

"_Who cares?!_ George got caught! What are we going to do?"

"Look, I know what happened, but there's nothing we can do for him. We got to keep moving."

He couldn't believe how insensitive Nathan was being.

_How rude of him to completely forget George. He was our friend!_

"But first, we have _got _to find some shoes. I can't believe we dropped them back there."

"Nathan, that's it! We can go back to get our shoes then get GEORGE out!"

"David, you're mad. No _way! _That's not a good idea!"

But David was determined to find a way to get George back. But Nathan thought otherwise. The moment David heard Nathan's rejection, he tried to run for it. Nathan held him back as much as he could.

"David, _please_, listen to me! I didn't mean it! Don't try to get him back! You can't!"

"WHY NOT?!"

"Because…you're…they're all grown-ups, David. You can't take them on and get George too. Not now. Please! I didn't mean it! Stop!"

Nathan pushed him back into the alleyway. David just stood there with clenched fists.

"No! I know what you really meant! You never liked him, did you? You wanted him to get caught, so you could escape."

"No! Not at all! It's not like that! David, I'm…I'm sorry."

He didn't believe him. He slipped underneath his legs and ran out into the alleyway as fast as he could. Nathan didn't try to stop him again.

_Good. I bet he didn't want to deal with me anyway. So selfish…_

Nathan had enough.

"Go get him back!" He screamed with sarcasm, "But they will grab you back in!"

He stormed out into the street, speckled with men and women walking between them.

"If you leave, I can't help you! You won't last out here! You'll die and you know it! You _need_ me!"

He looked back at his last hope…only to run away faster.

"Of course he won't come back. I failed you George. He was just another foolish, heartless orphan."

…

The running didn't help anything. He had to stop because of the tugs of pain and guilt on his chest. Not only had he lost one friend, but completely abandoned another. And if he gets caught again trying to save George…

He didn't know what to do. Save George or try to find Nathan again? Forget about both of them and go out on his own?

At that point he was even more scared of going back than going forward. The guilt had gripped him so tightly that all he could do was want to sit on the side of the road.

Then it happened. A rush of calmness and serenity came over him, the same one that helped him stand his ground against John. The same one that helped him befriend George and Nathan in the first place. He began to think in much calmer terms:

_Let's see. What was I doing just now? Going to get George? Then that's what I'll do._

So he started to turn up the winding streets and after he realized he was walking in circles, turned back to any way that seemed familiar. A right. A left. Then another left. It came back to him now…sort of. He just went with his gut, continuing to go straight, then a right, then another right.

He saw the sign of the street: Country Street. We're here! He knew it. This was the street the orphanage was on! He avoided the front steps and headed to the right of the huge church.

There were his shoes. They were right there, staring at him in the face from the inside of the fancy gate where the congregants would leave.

David gave a puzzling stare at them. They must have been swept to the side amidst all of the action. He quickly moved across the street from the orphanage and, as he slipped back on the shoes and tied the laces, never felt happier not feeling the cold ground anymore. Yet he liked walking barefoot in the beginning. He just wished there was some grass…

Then he heard a commotion. The sound of a car. He saw that it parked right outside of the orphanage. He rarely saw a car, let alone at the orphanage.

_Oh. A boy must be getting adopted._

Safely out of sight, he looked out to the entrance to see who it was.

Then he saw a tall boy with deep black hair scream, "Just let me say goodbye!", while firmly escorted to the car by a man and a guard.

It was…

_George! No! I'm too late!_

He could barely hear what was being said at the stairwell.

"Thank…Mr. Darling…care for him."

"You're…we'll take care of…"

The man in a tuxedo twisted some sort of crank on the front of the car as the women- his new mother -with a pompous strut and fur coat- and another man –with fur coat, pale skin and top hat- got into the back to join George. The car putted to life as the tuxedoed man climbed in the driver side.

The car turned onto the road and drove in David's direction.

He got out of his spot and tried to get another glimpse at him as they sped by. The man blocked the window, but as the car passed him his legs just started to chase the car. He just wanted to see him again.

"Stop! Wait! George!"

He ran as fast he could, passing building after building, the stones flowing underneath him like a river.

But the car was faster. He could only run for so long until the car sped ahead. Then it made a turn. David tried to keep up, but as he turned the car went a different direction. As he made it to that road, the car turned again.

_No… _It was hopeless.

"I lost him. I didn't even…get to…say goodbye."

Tears began to swell up in his eyes and with blurry vision and sheer desperation, he thought he could cut the car off by taking a short cut. He ran down a different road and started making any turn he could find, hoping he could find a road to that bloody car. He ran and ran until he couldn't take it anymore. He just wanted to cry. It took more strength to hold back those tears than it took to run this far.

He aimlessly walked down the rest of the street, up until the corner. For the first time in what felt like forever, he was completely alone. No George to make a plan and no Nathan to help. Then he heard a commotion coming from the adjacent street:

"Got 'ya, you little thief! Now you'll pay for what ya did!"

A policeman dragged a boy -younger than David, with darker hair- by the collar across the street David came from. That boy struggled to free himself from the policeman

"Get offa me! You got t'e wrong boy! I didn't do nothin'! 'Onest! Let me go!"

"Not this time, 'ya little runt! It's off to the o'phanage for ya!"

He pressed himself as close to the wall as possible when the man passed the narrow street perpendicular to David's.

He had never seen a policeman so close up before. But all it took was one look to be scared of them. He ran the opposite direction and even hid in an alley out of fear of being grabbed by them. His heart was beating fast in his chest, and once again, was scared to go out. No confidence was coming now.

He didn't even know that there were other boys hiding behind him. They started whispering to each other, and the hairs on David's neck shot up.

_Wait- there were others in here? _

"Hey, kid? Wheh you come from?"

_Uh oh._

It took a little too long for him to muster up the courage to turn around.

"Well? Who are yeh?"

"Some little rich scut. Pro'bly lost his Mum."

"You got any money on 'ya?"

"Nice hat."

There were three of them, their clothes and thin faces caked in dirt. Their eyes narrowed on him, as if ready to tear him apart.

"M-m-my name is Da-David. I'm from the… the Orphanage."

"Oh yeh? Prove it. Which one?"

"S-Saint Augustine's."

They were taken aback and gave looks to each other.

"Guys, I remember that name from somewheh."

"Yeah, it does… wait that was wheh Porgey must'a gone!"

David looked confused. "Who's Porgey?"

They turned to him again. "You don't know Porgey? You must have not gone there, you liar!"

"W-wait, is that his real name? Porgey?"

The smallest one spoke up. "It was a nickname. It's from the nuhs'ry rhyme- ya know? Georg'y Porg'y? That's wha' we called 'em."

"Georgey? As in George?" David never felt this excited that day.

"George who?"

"Was he tall? Black hair? Did he steal a carriage once?"

They all looked shocked, their eyes opened in the childish manner again.

"Holy shweest-… how did ya know 'bout tha? 'E told ya?"

David started reminiscing in front of the wide eyed others. "He told me about how you all stole the Judge's carriage, galloped away before he could blink, and destroyed it while keeping the horse. So…which one of you is Oliver, Johnny, or Willy?"


	5. Chapter 5

Their eyes stayed wide for a good few seconds. Then the one with brown hair and a black eye calmed down.

"Sorry, but we try to stay as unknown as possible. I'm 'Willy-'" he was the tallest, complete with a black eye, deep voice and buck teeth- "that's 'Oliver-'" he was the smallest, with long brown bangs and spoke with a rasp- "'and Johnny-'" he was a little pudgy and grew huge dimples when he smiled-."

"Nice to meet ya, ol' spotface," Johnny replied as he extended his hand to David, but not before spitting on it. David felt horrified, but he tried his best not to show it.

"Ah, c'mon. It's just his spit."

_Just his …spit? Gross! But, if there's no other way…_

As he put his hand in, he made sure to spit in the palm, where Johnny did. Then they shook, and David wanted to puke.

"It's offici'l then! So Davey, was the coast cleah when you came in?"

"Y-yeah, I think it was."

"Then let's get ou'a here. I'm sick 'a waiting. I'm hungry."

"Me too."

David's stomach grumbled. "Yeah, me too. I must have ran for hours."

Johnny got up out of his cross legged position and started towards the clearing. "Well, watta we waitin' for? The marketplace can' be too fa'away."

_The marketplace? Not too far away? _David held back his excitement as they all got up together and slid to the opening, into the lit alleyway. When the coast was clear, the four of them bolted out and into the street, running as fast as they could. The other boys were just as fast as him, so it felt like a challenge to keep up with them, a contest he was happy to be a part of. He couldn't believe his luck. Within only a couple of hours he had found a group of friends who not only liked him, but brought him into their group.

Oliver was the fastest, passing all of them with ease as they weaved through increasing traffic of carriages, business men and the occasional pram.

"Las' one to the corneh eats one 'a Miss Mah'cy's rot'en apples!"

As they turned the corner he saw the parked carts filled with doohickeys and produce, filling the sides of the streets, an overwhelming display of things to see, almost like what we'd think were exhibits in a museum. Two long rows extended on the far right and far left of the street as the pedestrians walked through the center. David had never seen such a sight up so close, or at all for that matter. As they pushed and inched through the crowds, he saw some old ladies gibbering on a faded bench between one of the separations between two dilapidated shacks, with pigeons feeding on nearby bread crumbs. It felt harder and harder to keep up, since they were so much better than him at sliding through a huge crowd.

They continued to weave through traffic, but then David realized:

He did it.

He found it.

He really FOUND it! Not by himself but with new friends too!

David was overjoyed as the main square, more like a main circle, opened wide in front of him, filled with people and carts moving to and fro. A large statue in the middle loomed over the populace -_"Looks like… a soldier"_- while loud noises and sharp smells arose from the different shops and shacks.

"Potatoes, over here! Three pounds a bag! Only got the best!"

"Fruit here! Fresh exotic fruit! Never tasted anythin' like it! Only seven pounds a fruit! Get 'em befo'e the're gone!"

"New toys for gi'ls and boys! Excitin' an' cheap! Get 'em 'ere!"

He turned his attention to the boys in front… that were gone. He slowly began to panic, as the throngs of crowd overwhelmed him. He pushed against the crowd, but it packed him in, and he became a helpless part of the flowing crowd, almost like he was caught in a raging river. Then he heard a sharp whistle come from somewhere, sticking out of the other noises. When he heard the whistle again, he turned in its direction.

Willy was waving him to come to their alley, all of them trying to get him to come. But David couldn't move. So Johnny came to pull him out and bring him in. All David could do was breathe a sigh of relief.

David felt more comfortable talking to them now.

"Whew, I thought I lost you guys. That was _close._"

"Typical. We'll fo'give yah since you're a newbie. Who go'a purse?"

_Got a purse? They bought one so quickly? And why would they buy that-_

"Like taking candy from a baby." Oliver thin hand held one up, a leather one with a metallic chain.

"I got two." Johnny held up two, which looked so small in his huge hands.

David couldn't believe it while they pooled all of the contents.

_Did they steal those?_

"Did you steal those?"

"Well of course! You think we bought these things? With money still in them?"

David felt uneasy. As much as he hated his orphanage, the commandments he was ordered to remember flashed in his head: _thou shalt not steal…_

"What? What's the ma'er? You never stole something befo'e?"

David quickly shook his head while Willy grew an incredulous smile.

"Wow, not even in the o'phanage? No way."

David shrugged. "Yeah well, they taught us about stealing when we were really young, and they'd punish us if we did, so… Why are you all looking at me like that like that?"

He saw some of them grow big grins. They seemed to have a plan that David was unaware of.

"Go out and steal a purse. Right now."

David's eyes widened in fear. He had already done enough naughtiness in one day, and now this? He couldn't even speak, let alone tell someone "no".

"Uh…Well… Um… I'd rather not."

"David, if you want to be a part of the group, you have to break a few rules. Your stupid moral code will only slow us down. Do it, or you're not a part of the group. Go. Now."

A fierce battle began in his head. On the one hand, he was always taught that this would happen if he left. He could just go back and all of this would be over. One paddling and that's it. He could be safe again if he just ran away.

On the other hand, he would be stuck there forever. That's not what he wanted. Yet if he was to survive on the outside, until he could find the place he always dreamed of, he would need friends. For the first time, he felt what it meant to be alone in the world outside. He had to keep his new friends somehow.

"O-o-okay…I'll (gulp) do it."

"Tha's ma boy! Oliveh, show him how's done."

"Johnny! I got more wallets!"

"Ye', but Oliveh got more pounds. Show 'im."

"Will do. C'mon orphy."

They rose up and squeezed into the crowd.

Possible Chapter Break

With fresh eyes, David began noticing a pattern. The market seemed to be split into various sections for different products; a produce section, a furniture section and so on. It was so loud they could yell to each other and no one else would notice.

"The ripest fruits are at the furniture section. That's where all of the greasy codfish go see what they could add to their livin' rooms. That's where we'e gonna go."

"Codfish?"

"Yeh. That's what we call them fancy people. They be grimy, smelly ones. They're so ugly and smelly that no water and fancy soaps can 'elp."

"Oh. So how did you get the other wallets then?"

"We're profes'als. We don't need to pick only the ripe ones, idiot. You're justa beginne'."

He couldn't believe himself. In one day, he was breaking not only a rule of the orphanage –not to leave, EVER- but from G-d too -"_Thou shalt not steal_"-!

He started feeling sicker and sicker just thinking about taking someone else's wallet and keeping it. It was against everything he stood for. The lessons he had learned screamed in his head. The Nuns glared down on him, with scolding eyes, pointed fingers, and an escort to the dungeon forever. It was taught at the orphanage and ingrained so deeply in him that it would take almost supernatural strength to tear it off of him, like a bandage stuck on the skin with medicine.

But as he walked with the other boy, he felt another rush of calm sweep through himself. The same one from before.

If he wanted to separate from being a priest, from staying there forever, he might just have to do that. He might have to break who he was before. Maybe just this one time he could be someone different.

"Just a little while… The', we're 'ere! You see the tables?"

"Oliver, do I really have to do this?"

"Of course you do! Don't be a blickan fool! Just steal one an' tha's it!"

"But it's not the right thing to do."

"That doesn't mean anything ou' 'ere, you scut. We ain't got no rules. Tha's the best pa't."

"Yeah… but…"

"But what?"

"I don't know… It's just that…"

"Just what?"

"Just wrong. It's cruel."

"Why? 'Hey 'ate us. They wouldn't be cau't dead nea' us."

"So that's why you steal from them? Because they hate us?"

"Yea', and because it's fun. The money doesn't 'urt eitheh."

They weaved through the crowd like alley cats, tucked underneath the wooden tables and chairs.

"Theh. That pair of pants. You see tha'?"

"Yeah. The grey ones?"

"No. The black. It's like it's asking fo' it. Ready?"

"Uh… yeah, I think."

"Okay, watch this. It's qui'e simple, really."

As soon as David said "What are you talking about?" Oliver had slid in outside of the table, and moved around that man in a quick circle, before drawing his left hand in and pulling out the wallet. He rushed back under the table, next to a surprised David.

"H-H- How did you do that?"

"Simple really. Just slipped in and took it. Now you try."

"Oh…um…ok…I guess."

After some calming breaths, he slowly crawled out of the table on all fours and searched for what Oliver called "ripe" wallets, the ones that bulged out of the pants pocket. He got so close to them, he even heard their conversations. They were all so _grown-up _and snobby.

Then he felt it; the same sort of confidence when he faced John. He could do this, just like Oliver did. He chose a ripe wallet, slipped his hand in, and-

"What the BLOODY 'ELL ARE YOU DOING, DEVILISH IMP!"

David fell to the ground as he faced a fed-faced, infuriated rich man. He could tell by the rolls of flesh underneath his quivering chin. He was caught red-handed, surrounded by grown-ups on all sides, and was paralyzed with fear until Oliver screamed out-

"ORPHY, RUN!"

"GET BACK 'ERE, YOU BLOODY ORPHAN!"

David went into "do-to-not-get-caught" mode. He wriggled himself out of other men's grips and dashed under the tables, almost colliding with his "mentor" bellow the stools on display. By the time they took off running, on the other side of the sidewalk, David was beginning to feel as happy as when he was filled with confidence.

"Goodness, Orphy! That was bloo'y mad! You messed it up! And you we'h so close too!"

Oliver's face showed concern afterwards. He never saw David grin smugly before, and it wouldn't be the last.

"Who said I was just close?" He held up a big, fat wallet tightly in his thin hands, before swiftly returning it into his jacket pocket.

"Whoa- Quick, 'urry, Orph-Davey! E's gaining on us!"

"How on _earth _is he gaining on us? We're faster than he'll ever be!"

"I know, but we 'ave a crowd to squeeze throu'h. He goes righ' throu'h it."

Sure enough, they heard him parting the crowd.

"Move _out of the way_! I'm the _JUDGE_! THEY HAVE MY WALLET! Grab those boys! Apprehend them! _Some_body! ANYBODY!"

They passed numerous alleyways, tight and only accessible through the small carts that covered one of the sidewalks. That's when David got a plan, for the first time outside of the orphanage.

"Wait! Oliver, here! I have an idea!"

"What? Whe' are you goin'?"

"Somewhere safe! Quickly, under here!"

He followed David through the side of the tables, where the judge couldn't reach them. Maybe the alleyway would lead to somewhere they could hide… maybe.

Their tiny bodies squeezed through the tight spots underneath the kiosks and they raced down to the alleyway, the judge's voice quickly getting quieter. They looked to find out if the coast was clear, then shared a breath of relief and a quick chuckle. David couldn't believe himself; not only did he steal his first wallet, but even guided his new friend to safety! He was so happy with his cleverness that he laughed to himself, until he was nudged on the shoulder.

"Davey, look. I neva saw anythin' like this. Neva nea' the marketplace."

To their surprise, the path led to a wide-open courtyard, as big and as wide as the whole orphanage, covered in green and cobble stone, like a secret garden tucked away from the deadness of the greys. There were two massive maple trees that covered it like a roof, while small houses surrounded it on all sides, like walls. They slowly walked through the wide open space, completely different from the tight spaces they experienced just a minute ago. Yet for some reason, Oliver began to feel nervous.

"Davey, let's get outta 'ere. I don't feel good 'bout this place."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"I feel like I'm bein' watched. Don't ask me why, but tha's how I feel."

"You still think the judge is behind us, don't you?"

"No…"

"Then Oliver, why are you so nervous-"

"You boys lost or something?"

"AAAAAAAH!"

They both jumped up in scared panic, then David hid behind him.

"Can I help you? Name's Ichabod, by the way. I live here." He looked like a younger man when in fact he was bent over in the way old people usually do, with greying hair that reflected from light shining from over the alleyway.

The two boys looked at each other in apprehension, then the braver one spoke.

"Yes. Can you please tell us 'ow to get outta 'here? We need to get back to the ma'ketplace. Our friends are waitin' fo' us."

"Sure. Just go back the way you came from."

"Um, well, it's not that simple. We were… **framed** for a crime, right Davey?"

"Uh, yeah, we were framed. We need to get out to someplace safer."

For some reason, Ichabod gave a long look at David before answering, almost as if he knew him.

"Alright. Just go out any of the other alleyways and you should be alright."

They answered in unison. "Great! Thank you!"

He bowed his head. "You're welcome. Now carry on."

As they ran passed him, he spoke with his back to them.

"I know you are wallet snatchers. Don't worry, I understand your plight. If you need a safe place to lay low for a while, Ichabod's Book Store is open to you."

They froze at the first part, then breathed sighs of relief and quick "Okays". Then they rushed out into the public squeeze of the marketplace.

"Y'know, I'd rather be there than in the tight spaces here."

"Not wit' 'hat guy, though. 'E spooked me out."

"Yeah, but there's no space here. You see the judge?"

"No. All cleah. You still 'ungry?" They were passing the fruit section, before the group's hideout

"Yeah. You?"

"Starving. Follow me."

They neared one of the stands and each slipped out with a fresh apple. He almost didn't know what to do with it until he observed what Oliver did. So he polished the apple with his shirt and took a huge bite. It was the sweetest, most delicious thing he ever had, the fruit bursting with sweet juices and enjoyable crunches. He took each bite very slowly, chewing it and relishing the delicious tastes. Oliver was finished before David's third bite.

"I guess it's what they say: The stolen apples are the swee'est."

"Yeah. We never had apples at the orphanage."

"Yep. You're a natural alright. The judge's wallet and good apples. Nice bounty fo' a fi'st day."

They nonchalantly walked into the alleyway again, the rest of them sharing leftovers of half a chicken with another group.

"Wheh were you? We went an' got this wi'out ya." Willy looked like he hadn't eaten in a week, while Johnny was picking his teeth.

David whispered in shock, "How did they get that-"

Oliver waved him off. "They just do these things. Don't ask."

Oliver sat down with him, finishing their semi-circle. "We goh' apples anyway. I'm not 'ungry. You, Davey?"

Now he was even part of the conversation!

"No, not really."

"Speakin' of w'ich," Johnny was finishing up a wing, spitting out pieces of bone for marrow. "You got'a walle'? We we'h hopin' you'd get one."

"Oh, I did actually. Here it is!" David surged with pride as he lifted up the huge wallet from his jacket. He looked to Oliver, who flashed a smile when he really wanted to say: _why are you giving away your prize? Davey you idiot!_

"Great on yoo, Orphy! Now hand it over. It belongs to the group."

David immediately brought it back to his chest. He felt the confidence flow through his veins. "No! Why should I?"

"Orphy, you want to be back on the streets? You need us to survive." Willy was starting to sound indignant. Johnny was glaring at him.

"Wait, we're already on the streets! And I learned to steal, so why should I stay with you guys?" Oliver buried his face in his hands. David was being too brash now.

"For protection. Yoo stray out the'h alone and you'll be finished wi'in a week. Thell rob ya, beat ya up and leave ya at the bobb'as to rot in jail. Yoo wan' tha', orphy? Then yoo be'er han' it oveh."

David gulped at the thought of that. Even though he felt taller than ever, he was still unable to defend himself, and still couldn't leave his only friends out here. So he gave over the wallet- all hundred pounds, seventy-five sickles and fourteen knuts, with a picture of two fat boys and a list of children he put away- and gave his loyalty to their group, whom they called the "Lost boys of London".

"'Lost Boys'? Why that name?" He would later ask Oliver as they settled down in an alley-hole between two streets. Both Willy and Johnny we're asleep already.

"Isn't tha' wha' we are? Out there on our own, away from all the codfishes and snooty-faced adults?"

"I guess that's if you're lucky. And you don't get caught."

"Ye'h. Davey, you know you can keep wha' they don' know 'bout."

"Yeah. I kind of realized that. It's funny, though. My friend and I really messed the judge up, didn't we? He took his horse and buggy and I took his wallet." He felt proud of himself as he stared up into the ceiling of brick, his head cradled in his hands.

"Well, you go'a lot to learn 'bout what it's like to live like t'is. This is only the fi'st of many. G'night, Davey."

The little orphan laid awake for a while before closing his eyes.

The next thing he felt was that he being very high up, almost as if-

_Oh, no. Not at the clock tower! Not again!_

Now there was a voice in his head, slightly different than his own:

**_Whatever you do, don't look down! _**

_Who… who is this? _

**_Keep your eyes straight! Slide across the edge of the tower or you'll see nothing but the street! _**

This was the nightmare that made David afraid to dream. He had viewed dreams as an escape, to fly away from the orphanage. But not like this.

He stood so far above the ground that he didn't need to be told not to look down.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn't; he did once before, but he fell down- and it was terrifying.

But from where he was, London, in its entirety, was spread out underneath him. The bright lights from the streets and houses gave off dim glows that breathed new life into the city's midnight. The sky was clear, with many bright stars scattered across the sky, while the moon was perched atop a throne of thin clouds.

Now the voice spoke again and slowly got louder until it was too loud, and rung in his ears, canceling out anything else.

**_Get away from this ledge. He'll get you._**

**_No, it's too late. Jump … Now! BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE! _**

_"__Wait, so I have to JUMP? Before it's too late… for what?"_

Then he heard the booming voice.

"**Hey you there- Come back here, boy! Come to me, or I'll have to come to you**!"

Then the brickwork a few feet from where David stood burst apart and revealed a strong, hand and lean arm. It was long enough to reach him.

**_JUMP! NOW! BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE!_**

He panicked as sweat trickled down his face. This meant jumping to his doom, and no one could save him.

**_WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? JUMP!_**

Before the man grabbed him, David took a footing and jumped as far and as high as he could.

The wind blew through his hair as he fell for what seemed like forever. That still kept his heart beating fast and hard in his chest and his head. This was why he was afraid of heights; the fall was so terrifying that it was hard to stop his screams. But on the way down, he suddenly thought something else, a thought that quelled all of the terror and gave him some serenity, even for a second:

**_Well, at least he didn't catch you right?_**

David couldn't help but agree with the inevitable, as feeling of calm and serenity swept through him as he fell, the skyline still as bright as ever. As he fell faster and faster to what he accepted as his impending doom, David closed his eyes, even smiled, and waited for the final impact.

He expected to hit the ground.

Then it happened. He felt a change in the fall.

He could've sworn he wasn't falling vertically, but horizontally…

_Am I flying?! What's going on?!_

David could never be sure, because at the moment when he was even the slightest bit sure that he was…

He woke up.

David suddenly sat up and gasped for air, as cold beads of sweat ran down his face and his heart beat quickly in his chest. His lungs begged his body to calm down.

In this dream, there was a different noise. This time the dream was scarier because the voices were louder. Now he remembered more of it. Questions began to swirl in his mind as he recalled more of it.

_Why was I on the ledge? Who, and why, was someone telling me to jump, especially before it was too late? What was "too late"? Who was trying to catch me and what did he want? Did I actually FLY?_

He looked around to check on the others. Willy and Johnny leaned up against the wall and Oliver was right next to him, curled up in his jacket.

_Maybe that could wait for another time… I'm free now. _

So he rest his head on his hands and looked up at whatever was above him before he closed his eyes, a ritual that he had done every night for the next three months. They had always been moving, setting themselves down under the open sky, hiding in the basement of an apartment complex when it snowed or rained, or even back in an alley-hole when they found enough clothing to keep warm. Yet every night, no matter if he had a black eye or twenty pounds in his pocket, he would always be thankful to be a part of a life filled with adventure. Unbeknownst to him, things (that good) never stay the same.


	6. Chapter 6

The thin sunlight slapped them all awake. It was an especially cold November morning, as the frost decorated every windowpane and froze every ounce of breath on their lips. Luckily they were in some sort of shack in Islington, outside of London, their bodies covered with stolen jackets.

"Everybody still alive?" David was the first to stand up, still wearing his hat and the orphanage uniform. Besides for slightly growing out of his clothes, at that point he looked like one of them - he proudly wore the dirt on his face and the matted down bangs that reached down to his eyes. He had grown since he first joined them, now slightly taller than Oliver, but still had his high-pitched proper-city voice and all of his baby teeth.

"Yeah. Willy's still 'ere." He pretty much stayed the same, except for the black eye; it switched eyes.

"Ughhhh, Oliveh's h-h-h-'ere." He had lost one of his front baby teeth in a scuffle a week ago, and now wore a beret to warm his head.

"What kind of a stupi' quest'n is that, Davey?" Johnny had slimmed down- after doing much scouting around town- but had as chubby of a face as he did before, his head covered in a wool hood. Somehow, he always seemed to know what was going on in their mad world.

"Just makin' sure we're all okay. You know wha' 'appened to the other group. One of them died an' they didn't even know it 'till after they all tried to leave. It makes me feel good."

"Yeah, like getting tha' last punch on Tony yesterday. That really 'elped us make a few allies."

David glared at Johnny. "Shut up, Johnny. He was so annoying about how I talk. You know you wanted one too."

He shrugged in agreement. "'Es got'a point. So, the usual everyone?"

"Yep."

"I'm game."

"I'm ready."

"Then let's go. Before we mee' the twins."

"Yeah. An' befo'e the owna finds us."

They snuck out of the shack and into the brightening morning as they backtracked to London's city center and marketplace, using markings and pieces of scarves on light-posts. David remembered the first time they had walked at dawn. He was not used to waking up so early, so his legs ached from fatigue and his head hurt. Yet now he was used to it.

They kept flowing through the tiniest alleys, the smallest openings in walls, just to avoid the public eye and the bobbers. David now moved next to Oliver, with Willy and Johnny not too far behind, so when they split up into groups to mooch a fancy breakfast café in the richer part of the neighborhood, the guests wouldn't know what was coming. It was a common technique amongst the orphan groups. There would be ruckus generated by the faster boys, while the slower ones took the rest while they weren't looking. It was fool-proof, usually. Today would be a good one. He felt it.

David and Oliver went inside first, weaving through the tables, snatching up not only sweets but even wallets. He had gotten so much better at snatching wallets, Oliver thought that he was better than him, even if he had joined only a few weeks before David showed up. At that point, it just became a contest. However many they took, they both loved the reaction behind them, almost as if a carriage had crashed through the place, horses and all.

"Goodness! Filthy mongrels!"

"Ahh! James, watch for those rats!"

"They got me wallet!"

"After them! Police, do SOMETHING!"

"Oh, my HEAVENS! They took the _good_ jam!"

They would laugh about it later, but they couldn't at that point. They took off and covered themselves in an alleyway before circling back to the hideout and sharing their breakfast. David never liked saying grace, so nothing stopped him from chowing down on the biscuits- the stolen, sweeter kind.

"So why are we goin' to the twins again?" David remembered the last time they had met. It was when he got the black eye from a stray punch.

Johnny looked up after wiping the crumbs on his face with his sleeve.

"There's a new judge in town. Rumor is they know which terri'ories he goes fo' fi'st. We need to know wheh so we could dodge him, and the'e askin for money. We go' enough?"

"Plenty. From today alone, we got enough."

"Then let's move. They wan' us the'h by the time Big Ben strikes seven."

"But I haven't finished yet." Willy was so tired, he looked like he was wobbling even when seated.

"You gree'y scut. You'll be better off to run if we bail from 'ere now, wi'out your gut so full."

They fly on the move again, avoiding the public roads- and grown-up's eyes- and slipped through alleyways, passed other groups of boys- lost, just like them- and were embraced by London's busy mornings.

The traffic of carriages and bodies made it difficult to squeeze through, especially when the meeting place was where Johnny called "the Big Bells" were- the center of town.

The center of London. David had heard about it. It even used to be in his dreams. He heard about the massive river that ran through it, the huge towers jutting up to touch the sky. It was majestic and big and mysterious at any other time. Now it just seemed threatening, the huge clock tower looking down on them as if it knew what they were. For a second, David thought that it might even be a watchtower, waiting to snitch on them to the bobbers once they put their guard down.

They got to the meeting place before anyone seemed to call for them. Johnny showed them through a hidden door behind one of the grey buildings, tucked away from view behind the fireplace that jutted out, like the building grew it later on in life. Once down there, Johnny motioned for us to do one thing; keep our mouths shut. He was the best at talking than the rest, so the group understood. For all they knew, he could talk a wallet out of a pair of trousers.

There they were, staring down on them as they walked through the entranceway. The lamp behind them cast an eerie shadow of the twins, as well as the other three beside them. This wasn't like the last place they had "met", rather a new place they made for themselves. While it might have been an illusion to petrify anyone who entered, they didn't need to fool anybody; the boys were actually bigger than all of them- even more than Johnny.

The twins wore the most suitable clothes for their swindling; jackets and pants so filled with greys and blacks, with bright ties hanging loosely off their necks. Rumor was that one of them even killed someone.

The boys surrounding them didn't look too shabby either. Their hair was cut down to their heads, their narrow stares visible from the candle light and dirty white shirts rolled up their sleeves. It didn't seem right that boys so big needed even bigger friends to help them. One of the other boys kept looking towards David. Then he recognized him. He didn't know how. But he couldn't help it.

"N-Nathan?"

All the boy did was put a finger to his own lips.

"Well," One of the twins growled in a deep voice, the innocence sucked completely out of it. "You made the deal. You've got the money?" He spoke in a high-class accent too, as if he was born rich.

Only Johnny had a chance with words. "Give us wheh th' Judge be searchin', and the money's all yours. Show 'em Willy."

With quick precision, he took out their collective pouch and showed them the exuberant amount they requested. Nathan, supposedly brought the money to the other twin. He examined it while the others kept their eyes on all of them.

Then David realized that one of them had disappeared. He tried getting Oliver's attention, but he was too concentrated on looking tough.

"Not enough, boy. What else you got in that pouch of yours?"

Johnny kept his composure, even though they were clearly trying to take everything they had.

"Nothin' else. That's all we got."

"Balderdash. There was more in there. I hear it. Troy, check it."

David felt Willy turn pale white. As fast as he was, he knew that some ruffles of pounds got away. _Why didn't they take it out before they came in? They looked ready to steal a bank!_ The biggest question was: _What was Johnny going to say now?_

David's ears perked to the back of the room. _Was that a door hinge? Were they going to close them in? Was this… no…it was a trap?_

The boy called Troy brought back the pouch to the twins. One of them immediately looked up and condescendingly shook his head, slow enough to push the perpetrators into guilt. They were so good at being horrible, greedy people, and David barely even knew them.

"Why do you lie to us, Johnny? We were on such good terms."

"We di'n't. You asked fo' tha'. And we _did!_ We gave ya' the money. Doesn't mean you can take any mo'."

"Maybe, but you're in our place now. We need to keep this place in order. And our business. It needs to be kept up. Bribing takes a lot of coin, Jonathan. (_They call others by their proper names? Now they sounded like grown-ups. I don't trust them. Then again, when did I?) _We'll just take this all."

The pouch's contents were poured onto their table, to another boy's open glee. Johnny was speechless, Willy was white in the face and Oliver's eyes covered his face. David was shocked before, but he was too confident to care at that point. He never saw a single pence after it went in and only kept what he snuck out of his "share". One of the twins noticed his face. Big mistake on his part.

"Well, aren't you just the brave one, little piss head? Not surprised, are you? Then you must be hiding something. Got anything on you?"

Surprisingly, he still had those twenty pounds. Yet he unsentimentally took it out and threw it to the ground by his feet. His confidence turned to heartless frustration.

"Come pick it up."

The rest of the group turned around and didn't know what to be shocked about: that he had twenty pounds or that he had the gall to talk down to them. The other twin tried calming the other one down. David could see through their silhouettes.

"Now, now. Don't get so mad-"

"How dare you-"

"What? I gave it to you, didn' I?" The rest of his group looked very tense. They had seen this heartless side of him before, and when it went bad, it went really bad for all of them. It's how he got that black eye in the first place.

"Bring it to us now, filthy orphan."

"I'm pre'y sure you can afford to do that yourself. We can't no more."

"Well, then. If you won't then, you'll be forced to." They were taken aback by David's defiance and resorted to only the best method.

"How will I-"

Then they gave the motion to the back of the room. He knew what was coming.

The moment they turned their heads up to the door, David bolted for it. Then the room went dark. The lamp had been extinguished. David suddenly tensed up in terror.

"Grab him! Don't let the rest get away!"

_Oh schweest. Which way was the exit?_

The next few seconds were chaos. He heard the table smash, punches thrown, grunts forced out, even a few recognizable screams. The fright wasn't worth being a part of such a nasty world. He didn't feel like he belonged here anymore. He not only realized the trouble he got for everyone else, but how much danger he had put himself into at that point. He had to get out of that dark room.

"David," he heard Nathan whisper, "I'll open the door. Go!"

Then he saw a sliver of light come from a crack in the door. He bolted for it, every muscle pushed to the limit and tensed for the impact. Little did he know how the door opened to the outside, so when he rushed the guard, he not only barreled him over but knocked the door completely open. He stumbled out onto the stone stairs, but didn't feel anything but a strong push to get out, to somewhere safer, anywhere but there.

"Nate, you fool! Close it up! Don't let them get away…"

He thought he heard others spill out, but he was around the block at that point. He didn't take a breather until he was in another alleyway. For another time in a year, he was alone again. But this time, he wasn't so scared. He had changed significantly since he had ran away the first time. He was more confident. He was- _Ouch! What the-? So much pain. Coming up too quickly! What hurts?_

He suddenly felt tremendous pain on his left shoulder, then noticed that a hole had been torn through his right knee, revealing a growing bump he knew would bruise. He didn't expect it, so it was much harder for him to move.

Then he began to panic. How on earth was he going to be able to get better? He couldn't steal medical supplies because not only had he become slow but no one else was around to help him. How was he going to eat? Where to sleep? What was he going to-

Suddenly he remembered-

_Wait- Who was that guy a while back that offered to help? From that really nice courtyard… Ivan… Jacob…What was his name? Ich…Oh! Ichabod! That was it! He was in that… that courtyard behind the market place! Yes, that's the best bet to go to! Maybe he can help me. Well, it's worth a shot. Now we just have to get there without being seen._


	7. Chapter 7

He didn't know how hard it was to weave through alleyways like he did with healthy limbs. But sooner or later, when the sun was close to turning in for the day, he found the marketplace, and snuck through the shacks and shops to reach the garden behind them, refreshingly green and full of life. It was only a matter of time before he found the only store with Ichabod's name on it.

As he went closer to the store after turning a corner outside of the garden he noticed someone sitting just outside, ominously, almost as if just a shadow. He was sitting with his back to the alleyway, facing down into what appeared to be one of his books. Suddenly, he felt a chill race down his spine. Now he knew how Oliver felt, except he didn't feel like he was being watched. It was a feeling that this wasn't a good idea, which it would only lead to trouble. Then again, he HAD offered before, and at this point he just needed a place to stay and heal. Food wouldn't be a problem after his knee got better.

Then the old man looked David's way, and the chills resumed.

"What's your name, boy?"

David took a step back, almost in a limp, in alarm.

The man didn't seem to move. All he did was put down the book.

"I can assure you, I won't hurt you, nor get you caught," The man said calmly, in a raspy warm old voice. "I know children like you and believe me I don't mean any harm."

For some reason, David felt too scared to say anything, not even an "okay".

"Holten, by the way. Ichabod is my first name."

David, in a fit of what must have been sheer over-confidence, spoke without thinking. "Ichabod...Holten, huh? What a strange name-" _Oops._

David quickly clamped his mouth shut with his hands, eyes wide in an embarrassed expression.

Yet, to David's surprise, the man chuckled! He stared, open-mouthed. _"Is this man mad?" _

Ichabod replied, "I've gotten that a lot. Almost every child that has stayed here has told me that. What kind of a name is Ichabod Holten?"

He continued to chuckle in a raspy voice, which calmed David down immensely but kept him on edge.

"Yet it's as much of a name as… what did you say your name was?"

He was much calmer now. "David."

"Well… David what?"

"Well, that's it. Just David."

"I see... So they didn't give you a last name at the orphanage?"

"No- Wait. How did you know?"

Ichabod sat up from his chair. "You must be joking. Your outfit practically gives it away. You're lucky you weren't found by any policemen!"

David looked down and shrugged. He must have been that good at hiding.

"Anyways," Ichabod said. "My name is just as much of a name as David."

The light from one of the streetlights had gone on and shined into the whole corridor, as well as onto both of them. Ichabod's face looked like it was aging at a graceful pace, with strong blue eyes supported with visible bags of flesh, even from afar. His hands, as well as the rest of his body, looked like they were once full of strength and skill, but had aged and now looked frail and accomplished. Yet unlike any other old man David had seen in his life, Ichabod was _smiling _as he leaned against the store's entranceway.

"So what brings you here, David?"

"Well," David began. He started limping forward dramatically to get more sympathy.

"You had offered me a place to stay. Well, I need help. My leg was hurt and-"

He realized that the limping didn't help; Ichabod's eyes stayed focused on the boy's face, so he stopped and instead truthfully hobbled over to him.

"I don't know anywhere else I can go to. Please help me."

Ichabod gave a quick look to his leg, which looked like an actual injury. Yet there was something David didn't know about the old man that he would soon find out. Ichabod was not a push-over. He had been once, and never again.

"Who says you are not taking me for a fool?"

David was taken aback. _But he looked like a nice person. He had even offered._

"I've risked my dignity letting ingrates like you take refuge here. If you be taking me as a gullible old man, then you're not welcome here."

"B-b-but Ichabod, I'm not. I-" David stopped when Holton gave him a dirty look.

"Then what was that with the limping? Trying to squeeze a good tear out of me? To get a quick ticket to refuge by getting sympathy? You were attempting to fool me, so be gone. Leave. Now."

David was shocked and marred with panic. _Wha…How could…no…no…_

He didn't even notice that it had been five and a half months since he cried. He had kept it in, even after all of the abuse, all of the pain, all of the hardship. Yet now, tears blurred his sight and the sobs came up again.

"I… din't mean to… I just needed… some help. Please sir…let me stay here, just for tonight…please. I'm…I'm…I'm sorry."

Meanwhile, he had turned back to his book. "I told you once, I won't say it again. Go away-" He didn't finish, because David had painfully limped closer to him, expecting that answer. He wasn't confident as before, yet he felt he didn't need it.

He had something else, and it came out with his words as he shoved down the book and spoke directly at his face.

"BUT…YOU…PROMISED, Ichabod! I remember you offered your place as a hideout to my friend and me if we needed it. So maybe I was returning the favor to you, because you were the one who lied first." He never felt so much in control, regardless how much his eyes were filled with tears.

Yet the other person was unfazed. Ichabod looked up at him with his dark blue eyes… and shook his head with a smile. David didn't know what to expect.

"You're not as heartless as the others I've seen around here."

At that moment David realized that his accent was different than everyone else's.

"So answer me truthfully," Ichabod said, leaning forward in his chair. "What is an orphan like you doing around here?"

David didn't show it, but he was too scared to disobey anyone again.

So David told him everything that had happened, summing up what had been going on over the past few months into a few sentences, while Ichabod listened, sitting back in his wooden chair, almost too relaxed.

"I see. So you left the orphanage in order to escape a fight and punishment?"

David nodded in blank-faced shame, his body bent over in the chair, his head almost touching his knees. But he didn't expect what came next.

"Well, that doesn't sound very gentlemanlike. Aren't you taught never to run from a fight?"

David looked confused. His head rose up a bit, to look up at Ichabod's face.

"No. We were never taught that."

"Oh."

"It was implied though," David guessed.

"I see. I might not be able to help with the punishments, but maybe I can help you with that."

David was skeptical. "How so?"

"I can teach you to fight."

He could only be grateful to his new host, but the truth was…

"Thank you, Ichabod. But I already know how to fight, somewhat…"

"Then if you knew, why did you leave?"

"Well, I learned how to fight while away, so now I know. The fact is, I'm never going back there again."

"Understood. Now, do come in. Please. Where are my manners?"

As he limped inside, the smell of old paper hit him in the face. He wondered where that came from, but then his eyes adjusted to the low light and found the source.

The shop was FILLED with books, from top to bottom, stack upon stack, piled up like the buildings outside, so much so that this small shop, as well as the storage area behind the counter, looked like a miniature world.

"That's what happens when you don't have enough room for your book collection," he chuckled, noticing David's wide-eyed stares at the whole arrangement.

"Wait here. I'll find something to make you a bed. I know you hurt yourself." He walked briskly through the piles and climbed a flight of stairs hidden by a few stacks.

That left David alone in his city. He slowly walked through it like a giant, looking at the covers of the books.

_BryimcoHSihc[oih .__Ťŋō£€ü±. _

It didn't take long before he gave up. After all of those lessons, he still couldn't read.

"Ichabod, what are these books about?"

"Can't you read the spines?"

"Well, um, no sir."

"Are they that damaged?"

_Should I tell him? … Then again, why should I lie about this?_

"No. I just can't read."

Ichabod dramatically dropped what he was doing and rushed to him, as if the boy had gotten hurt or something.

"You can't read?! You, the boy who miraculously ended up at a bookstore, _cannot read?!"_

David looked down in annoyed embarrassment.

"Yes, yes. You don't have to be so insulting about it."

"Insulting? Me? No, not at all. I just find it very ironic. It's like being in a duel and you don't even know which side of the sword to hold. How much do you know?"

"Just the alphabet. I know some Latin, for some reason."

The older man scoffed, blowing the dust off the books nearby.

"Church teachings, they never help in the outside world. Here, you see the letters?"

And for the next while, he tried giving David a quick lesson in English but to no avail.

"Well, you're missing out. Here's a great one: _Sir__ Robin and his Blaxburt__."_

"What's a blaxburt?"

"Exactly. It piqued my curiosity too, when I first picked it up. That's how they get you to read it. The give you a peek into the world they've made, the size of the eye of a needle. It's up to us to go further in, and sometimes it's too easy."

As he opened the red-covered book to the first page, David wondered out loud:

"Ichabod, could you read that story to me?"

He looked up from the book down to his new "helper".

"Tell you what. After we finish the work quota for today, I'll read it to you. Deal?"

"Deal." For some reason, David was a little excited. He wanted to know what a blaxburt was.

And so the day passed like a fleeting dream. It took no time at all for Ichabod to start reading, resting in his rocking chair while his audience sat cross-legged at his feet. The story began in the wild islands of Peroquai, somewhere between England and America, where a knight, names Sir Robin was sent by the Queen to explore new lands. A mighty storm blew in mid-voyage, but through his cleverness, they passed through it without as much damage to their fleet. Once they landed in the island, he was marooned by the evil crew and ended up befriending a strange-looking cat with a long face and a club in place of a back leg. And it was here that Ichabod stopped.

"Wait, don't stop! What happens next?"

"That will be for another time. Anyways, it's getting late. You should eat something before laying down. Sleeping on an empty stomach is an awful thing to feel."

David was used to sleeping hungry. It was painful to feel at first but he needed to if he was going to survive.

Yet he didn't need to survive. He needed to get better.

So after they shared a roll and a glass of milk each, his body welcomed sleep with open arms. It was the first time in months that David slept under real covers, where he truly felt secure and warm before falling asleep a few moments after his head touched the pillow.

…

He never slept so deeply in his life. It felt like he slept forever, a warm, tropical-like aura cozying him into breezy breaths and relaxed eyes. And when he finally awoke, when the sun had already begun its stroll across the sky, he never felt more refreshed. Then he moved his legs to get up of the floor and-

_It's gone. The pain is gone! How on earth-_

He checked his knee, through a growing rip, to find that the bump had gone down and his knee had quickly discolored from deep blue to light purples. Interestingly, his knee had come to look like the sky from his old dreams. Speaking of which, he hadn't had any of those for a while. Maybe they went on vacation.

As he put weight on the leg, it felt more manageable. He could walk more now- to his amazement. He practiced as he walked to the front of the store, to find Ichabod sitting on a stool behind the counter, sipping a hot drink.

"David! Good morning. I thought you'd never wake up."

"What time is it?"

"About 10 o'clock. You- wait, you can walk now." Ichabod deserved to look at him suspiciously.

"I know. I can't explain it either. It must have healed overnight."

"Not that quickly. You got it yesterday, right? Let me see."

He gasped with surprise at the healing knee, which looked very injured just last night. And he smiled. Now David looked concerned.

"It did heal! Very quickly too. You- well- you must be gifted or something."

"I'm not. I might have a different look than everybody else, but that's it."

"You don't get it, David. When I got hurt like this, it would take days to do what took you overnight. Something very miraculous."

"Okaay. So what do we do?"

"Nothing. It's just between us. Can you walk well now?"

"Yes. Why?"

"We need to get some things to eat, then I need your help around the shop. You know, with organizing the books. When we finish, you can read as much as you want."

So for the next couple of days, as he knee got better, that's how the schedule was. David stole meals for each of them and helped Ichabod organize the shop, to turn the city into an organized village. Afterwards, they would be read _Sir Robin_, mostly outside in the garden when the sun was turning in, until he felt tired.

It didn't take long to reach the climax, when Sir Robin fights the army of the wicked King Jasper for his beloved blaxburt- named Harlu-, which is held in in his castle. While Johan escaped the confines, his master unknowingly clashed swords with the guardsmen and eventually the King himself. David saw it all so vividly in his mind, down to the knight's freckles. He even daydreamed about the story while working on the third day, imagining himself fighting alongside the knight. After he finished work in the store, he sat outside and watched a group of men watching a swordfight.

"I wouldn't be that much help to Sir Robin if I couldn't do that."

"What are you talking about?"

"Sword fighting. When you read it to me, I wondered what it must be like to swordfight."

"Would you like to know?"

"Know… how to sword fight?"

"Yes, David. I can teach you."

"You can- wait, _what_?" David's head perked straight up to meet Ichabod's face.

"I can teach you how to fight like a real gentleman."

David was impressed. This old man, who seemed to be a worn-out book lover, happened to know about something he never knew about until then.

"Well, business is doing well enough to close up for the day. How about we begin your lessons right now, David?"

"Really? Well, um, sure. Great! Let's go. I assume you have equipment?"

"Yes, in a shed outside. That's not saying I've used it recently. By the way, want to know something about the courtyard?"

"Yes. What?"

"It was meant to be where everyone else threw away their junk, but a few of us loved open spaces too much for us to leave it a heap," he said with a proud smile on his face.

After he went with Ichabod to gather up the equipment, he was given a sword to hold, to get a feel for the weapon.

The sword was heavy, with a worn out wooden handle. But the blade was shined and beautiful, as if carefully and lovingly cleaned, but never sharpened.

They faced each other, one a slower pro, the other as amateur as it gets. Before they did anything, he taught David the first thing before any duel; the courtesy to bow to each other.  
>"I don't get it," David said, slightly confused. "If we're about to attack each other, why be so courteous?" Ichabod didn't answer.<p>

He showed David how to parry, to attack, to feint, to use the opponent's strengths as weaknesses and how to stay calm mid-battle. During each quick-lesson, they would have a quick duel. After multiple small duels, David realized how much better he was getting.

A couple of days passed, and he never felt more energized and excited to greet the day. Yet no matter how early he awoke, Ichabod always sat at the window of his small kitchen, hidden from the way of the alley, sipping a strong morning tea. But something happened- Ichabod looked at him with shock.

"Ichabod, what happened?"

He searched for the right words as he spoke.

"Well, David, uh… your eyes… they…"

"They what? What happened?"

"They're different. They look lighter."

"…HUH?!"

Ichabod showed the boy a mirror, and sure enough, blue slivers had grown in his eyes from the edge and center, making them a shade of blue-hazel. They both were at a loss for words. The poor boy was especially scared out of his wits.

"…Ichabod, what's happening to me? Am I sick? Am I going to die? Is this permanent? Why is this happening?"

"I don't know of any disease that changes eye color. I don't believe you're going to die. Heaven know if it's permanent."

Then Ichabod realized-

"If it is permanent, will anyone recognize you? Will the people in the Orphanage recognize you?"

It was a feeble question, but he could see in David's huge, changing eyes that it seemed like a good thing. He decided to take his mind off of his eyes- after all, he could still see perfectly.

While they weren't dueling or reading, the little boy would enjoy his new playground, without a care in the world. He ran across his new paradise, climbing the biggest trees and skipping through the grass that poked up from the ground.

At one point, he even taught himself to tumble. Then he got brave enough to cartwheel. To Ichabod's surprise, it didn't take him that long to flip in the air, then flip even higher, then do it over and over again. Even the old man didn't know what to think of it.

Soon he was trying different ways to climb up a wall, or flip over it. Then he brought his sword into the fray and slowly learned to flip while holding such a heavy object. He couldn't explain how he was doing all of these things, but all he knew was when he tried those things out, he was too confident to care what others thought- he could do anything. He didn't realize that when he kept having those feelings, his hair got lighter and his eyes shimmered with new colors of blue and green.

Later on, after another few days, the duels got longer and more intense. Each one of them got the upper hand before losing it, only to retrieve it later. As the days progressed even further David seemed to get better and better, to the surprise at the other men sitting in their garden. Later on, he was winning every duel, even with tricks he couldn't name yet. He periodically had the momentum to flip around his opponent, using a dodge to tumble to the weaker side. This spectacle attracted all of the men to come watch. They jokingly taunted Ichabod about how he was losing to a little boy. Then Ichabod would hand them a sword and watch them get narrowly beaten as well.

During and after the duels he constantly reinforced every trick. He learned to recognize ones he didn't understand, with newfound grace and force he never knew he had before. After one of the later duels, instead of David getting winded and exhausted, the roles switched. Now Ichabod, given his expertise, was the one panting, a look of disbelief and pride, while the other showed off his brand new confidence. David never felt so tall in his life, especially when others applauded on the good show they saw.

"I knew it! You're a natural, David!" He exclaimed happily.

"I am? Well, after all this time, I guess I am!" David couldn't help but be amused at his discovered talent, feeling incredibly poised as he rebalanced the sword in his hand. Then he had another crazy idea…

"May I ask you of a favor, Sir?"

"Of course," Ichabod said while still breathing heavily. "What is it?"

"Do you have any smaller swords that I can use?"

"What? But you've barely gotten how to use the sword yet."

"Really? You really think so?" David arched an eyebrow, a smooth snicker formed at his mouth's corner.

Ichabod returned a smug look back to him. The men couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"Okay, David. Though it's only been a week or so." He took out a smaller sword from the cylinder.

"Let's see how you do with a smaller weapon. I'll cut that confidence down to size," he said as he gave David the dagger. To him, it felt much better than the sword, with a lighter and shorter blade than before.

To Ichabod's, and David's, surprise, the dagger did wonders for him, allowing him to practically dance circles around his teacher, swinging, clanging and twirling with the utmost of ease and skill. He ended the duel in record time, immobilizing Ichabod in minutes. Ichabod was very impressed, while hiding a sense of embarrassment over losing to a young boy who just learned how to swordfight.

The sun began to set as they both sat to rest their aching bodies. It even caught up to the young boy.

"Well, that was a fantastic lesson, dear David. I must say you are one of the finest swordsman I've ever trained. And after only a few days."

"Thank you, kind sir."

"How about a treat? After supper, I'll bring you to a play."

"Thank you, but what's a play?"

"Hmm, well you are very ignorant, my dear child. It's short for a show that plays at a theater. Now, I insist that you will love it by the time we get back home."

After a small supper, he took him out onto the street, lit only by the streetlights and some windows. It seemed like the whole world was asleep. Ichabod led him into what looked like an average store, except they weren't selling any produce or toys, but… tickets?

"Here you go. Oh, you'll love it, boy. If I could only have three passions in this world, it's plays, sword fighting and books."

He gave a small, satisfying chuckle as they passed through the actual store, its shelves covered with drapes in hopes of avoiding theft. They followed the small crowd bend under an arch and down a short flight of stairs. What David never expected was to see a small stage complete with curtains and plenty of seats in the audience that filled up quickly.

"This is a small theater company, David. They make smaller versions of what's popular, see? The play they are doing now is… 'Peter Pan, or the Boy that Never Grew Up'. Great! I have yet to see that. Here are our seats. Hmmm, I expected the audience to look older…"

Some of the people around them weren't the posh and snobby people that David had expected, rather teenagers, young couples and some bigger families. Their energy filled the room, and he could feel something that he wouldn't understand until later. The audience was only slightly bigger than the stage, which seemed crammed with colorful clothes and pieces of wood. The stage was the only thing that was lit, with two bubs shining on both corners. When they dimmed slightly, the audience instinctively knew to calm down. As they reach their seats, one of the actors steps onto the stage, dressed in clothing that he had never seen a man wear; a bright red robe, shiny green boots and a blue hat, with a gold feather in it.

"Dreamers and lovers of fine art, I welcome you to the beloved Dream Flyer theater company. Usually we have a more…well, a greyer audience (he stopped for the ensuing chuckles), but we're so happy that everyone else heard about this play, so we will not let you down. All we ask, as you all know, is to do what we call the theatre's creed."

He took out what seemed to look like an old piece of rolled up parchment, blew off the dust, and in one fowl swoop untied the string holding it together and unraveled it. He could hear some members of the audience whisper it along with him:

"BEHOLD, though you may be seated, you may feel the wood of the chair under you, you may be acting on this very stage, but the mind will be soaring with dreams and visions of another world. That is the world of imagination, where only believers dare.

"BEHOLD, as you hear the parts, the mission is to keep an open mind. From the young to the old, one thing we can always trust in ourselves is our ability to make our own fantasies, and even turn them into realities.

"HENCEFORTH, when there's a fantasy world, imagine that for yourselves, and the play will bring the fantastic to you."

As he finished rolling up the parchment, his arm floated across the audience, as if sprinkling something over the crowd.  
>"Tonight, we shall all hope to inspire you to imagine, and amaze you all at once. Thank you fellow thespians, and enjoy the show!"<p>

The audience clapped loudly, some even hollering and whistling, already filling the room with excitement and warmth. They calmed down fairly quickly after the actor returned behind the bright red curtain.

"Ichabod, what did he mean by 'making our own fantasies into realities'?"

"Hush boy. The play is about to begin."

It was then that David recognized some of the boys from the street. Two of them were in the play, acting as the boys named "John" and "Michael". A girl played "Wendy" and another girl, slightly older, played a boy covered in red leaves named "Peter Pan", which David learned not to care about. The play started slowly, discussing family issues he never had nor cared to deal with.

Then he talked about flying. That got his attention. He's going to fly?

He had told his friends at the orphanage about flying people, but that was in his head. Would he actually see it? That would be something else.

He didn't know that the harnesses pulled Peter up, but when he soared into the air, even a few feet up, David's eyes stared in awe. He was completely and utterly spellbound, swept up in the fantasy with the rest of the crowd. The stage disappeared and in its place was a dream so real that he was scared to blink out of the fear of missing something. The boy and the other three children soared right out of the window into the night sky.

He could feel the wind blowing through his hair, the slight chill sending tingles down his spines. He felt like he was flying with them, on their way to a place called Neverland, where he could never grow up. It was beautiful, lush forests and golden beaches surrounded by blue sky, where adventure waited for you amongst the pirates, Indians and animals. It was a land so dangerous, yet so accepting and exotic at the same time. He felt like he was there, even whispering reactions to what the actors said onstage.

Then the mean Captain Hook kidnapped the Lost Boys and Wendy John and Michael. Then Tink drank Peter's medicine. Her light began to flicker. She was dying. _No! She can't die! She can't!_

"Her light is growing faint," Peter solemnly said as he slowly turned to the crowd.

"And if it goes out, that means she is dead! Her voice…it's so low, I…I can scarcely tell what she is saying. She says…She says she thinks she could get well again if children believed in fairies!" He raised his hands out to the crowd, calling out to them- to him- in dire need. Peter needed his help!

"Do you believe in fairies? Say that you believe!"

The crowd was hesitant. They were so tense they couldn't say a word.

"If you believe," Peter tried a new approach, "Clap your hands! Clap your hands!"

He didn't know who started it, but David knew he had to do something. He clapped as hard and as loud as he could. The whole room erupted in applause, calling out their firm belief in fairies with even firmer ovation. Her light began to shimmer and glow.

David clapped harder, not only to help Tinkerbell, but- he felt something else. The warm sensation coming from inside. The same feeling from before, but in overload. He didn't just applaud- he began to believe that it was possible for fairies like Tinker bell to exist. He didn't know how he got the idea, but it was such a lovely thought, he never wanted it to go away.

Finally her light exploded into the brightness rivalling that of the sun. She flew gleefully around Peter, celebrating her resurrection without a care to those who revived her. The whole crowd cheered and whistled at their success. Peter just had a huge grin on his face. He found something to believe in that night, and he found it in Neverland.


	8. Chapter 8

The story got more intense as he joined Peter in stopping Captain Hook. He wished he had his sword with him so he could jump on the ship and give him another hook for a hand. So instead he quietly cheered for Peter as he confronted the devilish Hook. He was never happier when Peter finally defeated the wholly unheroic figure and sent him into the mouth of the crocodile.

Then he saw the family reunited again, and he felt another tug. He wanted to feel a part of the Darling family, but he kept looking back at the boy in the red leaves, staring into the window from outside. He didn't feel like one of the children; he felt like he was someone like Peter- someone magical, who never grow up, be friends with mermaids and Indians, fly with birds and fight on equal ground with pirates, all with a fairy loyally by his side. He wanted that life, yet he saw him look in to the nursery, watching the family hug and cry over each other like it was something he would never have

"Have you ever read a story like that play?"

"No. It was always a weird story about kidnappings or real mysteries. Never anything about _lagoons flying over flamingoes."_

"I see. So you've never read a story like that?"

"Never. Why, you have?"

"Yes, I have. In fact, I have the book that's based off of the play at home."

David stopped Ichabod with a dropped jaw and wide eyes.

"YOU…HAVE-"

"David, please. We're outside."

He began to feel embarrassed.

"Sorry. (Ahem) You have the _book?!"_

"Yes, of course I do. I got it when it first came out two years ago."

Ichabod never ran so quickly in a while, with his arm almost pulled out of the socket by a tiny energized eleven year old. They got back to the store in record time. It was that moment when Ichabod felt like he had a son again.

"Where is it? Where is it, Ichabod?"

"Um, there, over there, I think. You don't remember putting it away?"

"No, you did it."

"Oh, so it should be there then. That's where I worked-"

"I got it! It's a different name though."

"I know, but that should be it. Does it have a boy in a tree playing a flute?"

"Yes."

"Then enjoy. You've found it."

He stopped everythingto stare at the cover. Inside this book was all of the dreams he had before but put into a book. It was the world he wanted so badly.

He must have stayed up all night lying on his stomach under the streetlamp's light just to look at the pictures in the book. Those images made a world that David never wanted to leave. Even if he did find the nicest grown-ups in the world, it wouldn't match the paradise that beckoned him.

Ichabod had gone to bed while his guest was in Neverland and he would stay there until the dimness of the streetlights finally forced his eyes shut.


	9. Chapter 9

He woke up when windowpanes bounced sunlight into his face. The book's pages folded in awkward creases after being underneath his folded arms. This wasn't where he usually slept, so it took him a second to gather his bearings and stretch himself awake.

Ichabod was still asleep, surprisingly. It must have been that early.

_Might as well surprise him._

He slipped out of the house while the sun was floating close to the skyline with every intention to bring home something special for him. Ichabod said that he hasn't had a good biscuit in months, and David knew the best place to look. By the time he went out onto the streets, he came to know the world within the market place, the different roads that crisscrossed the huge area like they were randomly carved into it by a child.

It hadn't snowed in quite some time, so he was able to walk around without worrying about freezing his toes off. The sun warmed up the winding streets with every passing minute, and David was on the move. He knew where the best biscuits were.

The café looked warm and inviting, with the al fresco tables and chairs replaced by colorful windows. And the smell of baked goods was still there. It was too inviting for him to resist. The main question lingered in the back of his head and pushed itself to the front-

_How will we get out afterwards?_

_…__We'll improvise._

He walked in with another customer, after noticing the "welcoming bell" hanging from the top of the door. He had to act quickly or he would be seen.

The whole room was a dining area, with a corner curved off for the cash register and bakery opening. Next to the counter showed any of the possible pastries available for purchase, all kinds of pasties, crumpets, biscuits and tarts lined up and protected by a curved glass that made everything there seem bigger. Continuing past the glass display was a door that read "employees only".

He would have a better chance with sneaking into the bakery, or so he thought. He snuck in when no one was looking and followed the narrow archway into the heart of the store. Huge ovens, blazing hot, baked the raw dough into floury perfection within minutes. He stood there in a mesmerized trance- he'd never seen anything like it.

Then he saw the tray. Set down on a table too close for him to fight hunger. While the bakers occupied themselves, he slowly grabbed a biscuit, then another, then another, until-

"OY! You! Get your paws of those, you greasy prawn!"

They noticed.

_Time to go._

And right before he could take a bite of one of them. Just one bite. But he got so disoriented he ran in the wrong direction. He heard the clomping of boots get closer down the hallway. He was too scared to eat now, so he stuffed the treats into his jacket pocket and searched for another door. He didn't realize that the hallway was turning to the left, so when he opened it, he was greeted by scared eyes and screams of "thief".

He would have gone into full out panic mode if he didn't get that calming feeling again, the warm rush that reached even the tips of his hair. Luckily the counter next to the register was foldable, not solid, so he slipped through and weaved through the long skirts and baggy pants. He almost made it to the corner…

But a policeman had come in for his morning coffee. He never caught an orphan that fast.

"Alright, boy! Who are you?" He held David by the collar in a firm grip.

"Let me go! I have a home!"

"Yeah, right! Maybe in a gutter somewhere! Your name or you're _dead_."

"D-David… Holton sir."

"Really? What are your parent's names?"

"Um, well… Ichabod. No mother."

"I see. One of his 'guests', eh?"

David's logic got lost at that point as he stared with wide, hazel-ing eyes. The Policeman grew a small grin.

"Have we got here an orphy?"

He shook his head, as if that was going to help.

"Ha-ha! I don't believe it! I got an orphy 'ere! What luck! Paul, save the usual for me, I'll be back soon."

An old man affirmed him back as he started dragging the boy to the station.

"Say, what were you trying to steal, anyway?"

David was surprisingly calm throughout the whole ordeal.

"Breakfast."

"You know, it would be nice if you gave me some of what you got. Maybe you won't be as badly treated as the others." Clearly the man needed his coffee, otherwise he wasn't thinking straight.

He didn't want to do it at first, but-

_It was for Ichabod… Oh, when will I see him again?_

He gave him two of the biscuits.

"That's all of them."

"Good little orphy. You know your place."

David made sure to time his bites with the officer so he wouldn't notice.

Even the station didn't look so bad. The sun reflected off of its low roof, and it looked small even from so close. But it got much bigger when he was shoved in.

Yelling. Crying. Typing. White walls and black bars. David hated the place the moment he walked in. He was forced in front of the dullest man he'd ever seen, whose sole job was to write down everything about each convict.

"Name?" He sounded dull and monotonous.

"David, sir." He sounded chipper, even in here. Must be the confidence thing.

"Date of birth?"

"Sometime twelve years ago."

"Where are you from?"

He had to think about that. "First the orphanage-"

The man perked up.

"Then the streets."

"Oh." The man turned his head down again.

"Hair, eye color?"

"Brown hair, brown eyes."

"Uh, boy that's not brown. Your eyes have a different shade than usual. And your hair isn't all brown either."

"What are you talking about-?"

The policeman showed him a dirty mirror, and it didn't show how he thought he looked. There were strands of pure yellow trickling over the darker strands of brown. Also his eyes developed a complete strand of blue in them, completely turning them hazel. So it was spreading only to those places, yet he felt fine. In fact, _too _fine. He didn't like the station but it didn't scare him.

"I…Uh…"

"Put him in cell 3."

He was shoved into a large sized prison cell, filled already with 10 other boys, who looked at him strangely. He was the only one that sat on the cold bench and stared down at all of the others.

"What is it? What are you looking at?"

_Must be about my eyes._ He shrugged away the stares. He was already used to it.

Most of them were tiny and vulnerable, holding themselves in tight bundles and protecting themselves with eyes as big as shields.

They just sat in different side of the room. It felt like forever before one of the bigger boys asked: "Aren't you scared?"

He turned to him, brushing his dirty blonde bangs away. "Scared of what?"

"Scared of getting sent to a… an orphanage?"

While the other boys shuttered, a chill ran down his spine. He didn't realize the consequences of the situation. Was he getting sent back?!

Yet, he was unnaturally calm about the whole situation. A cool chill blew in through the window, high above climbing distance. He didn't mind. It felt like a calming breeze.

"No. Not really."

"You're not?" Another boy moved towards him in interest.

Another boy peeped in. "Have you been there before?"

"Well… yes."

The other boys came closer, but not all at once. The braver, bigger ones –some even bigger than David- sat near the bench, the others curled up at his feet. He could tell that they wouldn't hurt him. If they tried, he wouldn't hesitate to defend. They were scared.

"What's it like?"

"Um, well…"

_Should I say the truth and scare the wits out of the kids? Or lie? Hmm…_

"It feels…safe."

"Safe? How?"

"Well, you're covered by a roof each night. They give you meals. You can play all you want."

_All you'd have to do is recite a few silly rules to get on their good side._

They weren't buying it.

"Well, then why did you leave?"

David took his eyes away from the group as he gathered up one more lie.

"Because…" He drew a grin at the corner of his mouth. That warm feeling had been with him since he was thrown into the prison. He hadn't told a story in what felt like forever, let alone one that could be real.

"I was adopted."

They didn't expect that.

"You were?" "Who adopted you?" "What was it like, living with a family?"

The questions rose up like waves. All he could do was quiet them down.

"Quiet, you slouches. I'll answer all of them in time."

For the next few hours, from midday on, he told the biggest story he ever improvised. Turns out he had been "adopted" by a rich couple and they were all driven home in one of those fancy new cars, with plush seats and smelled of the mix of sharp cologne and sweet perfume. They arrived at the wealthiest part of London, with high buildings, bright lights and fancy green bushes instead of grass. On the first day, he enjoyed the most scrumptious meals, pasties that melted on his tongue, bathed in the warmest water and slept in goose down pillows and heavy sheets. Even he began to sigh at the fantasy- who wouldn't?

Then, on the second day, he overheard his "Parents" talk about his future; where he will go to school; when he will grow up to get a degree; what job he'll have, what kind of girl he'll marry, where he would end up living and working. Like all of the other boys hearing the story, he never wanted to grow up. He didn't want anything to do with that stuff, even with the sweets and comfy sheets.

"So what did you do?"

"When they came in to tell me, I didn't want to do any of that. They didn't give me much of a choice. So I ran away, down the stairs, past the guard at the door and out here."

"Aren't your parents looking for you?"

"Not really. They could get another one very easily. A Nun actually helped me find a place to stay."

"Really?"

"Yeah, but then that place just happened to be that same orphanage."

"Oh, how terrible!" "Yeah."

"Oh, don't worry," He pushed away the sympathy with a scoff. "I broke out of there too."

"You DID?!" "You can DO that?!"

"Shh! You want the other guards to hear?"

They immediately shut up. The guards had been passing by each of the six cells. Theirs was the quietest, the others full of yelling, a _lot_ of screaming, cursing and crying.

"Sorry. What happened?"

"Well, me and some of my mates found a secret passageway, in the catacombs. We snuck through a whole dark room filled with nothing else but dead people."

A hushed silence amongst the boys. They feared death too.

"W-what happened next?"

"Oh, wait until you hear this. The priests heard us coming up from the other side, and some tried to catch us while still in the catacombs. But we were too fast."

David could see that one of the younger policemen leaned against the bars to hear the rest of the story, his keys dangling loosely from his pocket. Then David got a crazy idea.

"Well, what happened next?"

"Well, I was the fastest of all of them, so I got away. The other ones, they weren't so lucky."

"They got caught?!"

"No, but they would have been if it wasn't for me."

Some of the kids were getting bored. Time to spice it up again.

"What did you do?"

"I… turned back to those grubby men with their claw-like hands," He got up to demonstrate, "lowered my head like a bull, and rammed head on into one of the Priests, sending him head over heels to the ground."

Those bored kids perked up again and turned as David moved the action to the other side of the cell, closer towards the bars, closer to that younger policeman.

"Then I knocked the other one down with my fists." He moved like he was dueling with fists, jabbing and thrusting his arms with each step around the cell. Even the guard was mesmerized.

He turned back to them with another grin. "Then the orphanage's guards came."

"Oh, guards eh?" What'd ya do?" Now the policeman was interested. David saw the keys sticking out of his left pocket. He knew just what to do.

"Well, one of them tried to pin me down, like this." He flattened himself down right by the guard's feet.

"He had my arms held, his face leering over me. I was trapped, or so I thought."

"Did any of the other boys help you?"

"Well, one tried, but the other forced him to leave me. That traitor thought I was a lost cause."

The Guard leaned in closer to see how he would escape. The keys twinkled in the setting sky.

"So I aimed one steady kick, and gave him a 'nutcracker'." He smiled as he said that. Oliver taught him that during one of the fights.

They all started to laugh as David positioned himself against the bars and leaned in with his left arm. The man was still laughing and David had big enough pockets in his pants.

_Weird how there's only a few keys for all the locks, on such a big chain._

"There I am, facing this behemoth of a man, and he's still whimpering for his Mum. Like a big baby." They all laugh again.

"He throws two at my head. I twist down, swing to his right and run around him and straight out into the outside."

The boys looked extremely awed when the guard piped up: "How did you get caught again?"

He expected to hear some petty theft, like what David really got caught for.

David immediately turned around and with a smug smile replied: "I stole the Judge's wallet. Then another policeman's hat. Didn't see the other one on the horse, though. Swept me clear off my feet."

The guard looked mighty impressed as David sat back down on the bench with a grin still on his face. Meanwhile, the policeman left the bars to ask his colleagues where his key-chain went.


	10. Chapter 10

The children wanted to hear more about David's crazy life, but he didn't have much more to say. So he asked about theirs. Some of them came from the slums of London, others from the outskirts. They all became groups like David had before, but they didn't meddle with the politics; they went wherever they wanted, stole anything, and ate anything edible. But they wanted to be free again, to be "lost", out in that world, even if it meant just surviving.

"What's the reason why you want that?"

The oldest boy there, only a few years older than him, named Tony said it first.

"Because you only have yourself and your mates. You might be lost, but you're never alone."

David knew that just as well as them. It was what he wanted to hear.

By the time they became friendlier, joking about the fat policemen and the stupid "codfishes", there was a rap on the bars. Night had settled in by that point.

"Nun's here. Boys, come say a prayer with the Sister."

You could feel the rumble of hundreds of boys raced up to the bars. Tony pulled David up with them as he saw a Nun glide next to each cell. He heard the first one's say a special prayer for prisoners, as well as the Nun bless them.

Then the second cell. Then their cell. And that's when he realized-

_No way. _

_Sister Agnes?! _

He saw her take a longer look at him. He felt her eyes pierce through his changed eyes and lighter hair. Yet she didn't say a word as she moved on to the other seven cells.

Would she recognize him? Would she just leave him there, to be able to fend for himself? Come to think of it, he would be better off if she left him here. He still had the keys.

The other boys had returned to their spots. Some other boy had taken his spot, but immediately moved away as he approached. But before he could sit, as his back faced the bars, she came back.

"My child- Is that you?"

He wanted to ignore her. He wanted to be left here. He didn't want to leave. Yet she was his mother, at least that's what he always thought of her. How could he ignore her?

As he turned and replied "Hello, Sister Agnes," she saw a David that wasn't the same little runt that ran away. Through the moonlight she could see he was taller, with lighter hair and a confident stance.

Before she could get a guard to unlock the door, he slipped the oldest boy the keys.

"Go out early in the morning, when the guards are sleeping. There are plenty of places to seek refuge and I'm sure you know them."

The boy gave a look of shock and awe as he shoved them into his pants pocket.

"W-who are you?"

_After this whole time, they never asked each other's names! How weird. _

He knew he would never see them again, so as he was beckoned out he decided to whisper them some hope.

"I'm Peter Pan. I help boys like you get out of places like this. Good luck." He gave him a reassuring grin as he walked to the entrance of the cell, the only boy that left when the cell's guard was awake and watching the door.

He was immediately scooped up by the familiar Nun as his confidence began to drain like the color from his face.

"My darling child! Why did you leave us? Oh, we must get you back to the orphanage! Look at you- you're filthy! I guess you'll have to bathe and be barbered tonight. Come, we must go before your bedtime."

She pulled his arm to match with her fast pacing out of the police station.

"What about my punishment for leaving?"

She looked down upon his flushed cheeks and bright eyes- the ones she almost fell in love with. "Punishments? My dear, if you come back with me, you won't have any punishments to deal with. No paddling, no dungeon, nothing. You'll be welcomed back with open arms. Like nothing happened."

_He would be forgiven?_ _Like nothing Happened?_

No. It wouldn't be the same. Everything did happen, and in that time he had learned not to trust certain grown-ups. But if he didn't listen to her- what she might do still scared him.

He immediately tried to distract himself from the walk back with memories of the fun he had before. He thought about how he was going to fight John and maybe chase him far away, so his life could get better. Maybe he would swing him over the big black fence.

It took too soon to reach the towering citadel of cold, grey stone. He didn't want to go back, but he was forced to- he would rather pick this place than hell.

They arrived at the orphanage late at night, and came in through one of the big wooden doors.

She said nothing more than: "Thank you for choosing the right path, David," and walked with him up the stairs, beyond the sleeping quarters, where the boys slept in tightly packed rows, to the other bathroom at the Nun's floor.

The other, more disciplinary Nuns forced him to get into a tub of freezing cold water. As much of a nightmare as that sounds, they also scrubbed him down with a brown soap bar and a hardened piece of wool. It took one to cut his hair down to his scalp, even his beloved bangs, and another to rinse his head of any loose strands. While he wasn't able to see the results, he felt the cold air sting the top of his head, like the hair was a sort of shield, as he put on starched pajamas that didn't even fit him well. He was shoved out of the room with a worn-out uniform he was to wear the next day.

His old bed was given to a new boy, a bigger one with as little amount of hair as he did. Instead, he was moved to the one right next to the window, the only one bathed in the light of the outside world; it kept him up at night, as it would to any boy whose nightlight is too strong.

So he looked out again, at the paradise somewhere out there. His family was out there, and they'll travel the world together. Maybe he'll even find a blaxburt…

Yet the world mocked him now, instead of beckoned him. The light from the moon covered the roofs and street in a milky white, like a snow that didn't build up on the walkways and frost the windowpanes. He wondered what Ichabod was thinking…

_Oh no. Ichabod! He must be worried sick about me…_

And what about Willy? And Johnny? And Oliver?

But most of all, as he pulled the rough sheets over his cold, drained body, he began to wonder what would become of him; whether or not he could keep his own warmth alive. But sleep overtook him before he could think too much about it, and next thing he knew, he was on a familiar tower again.


	11. Chapter 11

JUMP. NOW. BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE.  
>NO… Not again.<br>David was at the ledge again, the brightly lit London skyline open underneath him. One thing was different, though; he didn't have any urge to look down… Nor were the whispers so deafening.  
>"Hey, YOU BOY!"- It's that man again! "COME TO ME OR I'LL COME TO YOU!"<br>Smash! The brickwork smashed apart again, the triumphant hand still gripped tight with urgency.  
>Yet David wasn't as scared as before. It was as if he got a large amount of bravery. He even had enough guts to turn in the direction of the hole and ask-<br>"Who are you?"  
>No answer. Then-<br>"You must come, BOY. Don't ask any questions!"  
>After hearing such rude demands, he would have nothing of it. David inched more and more away from the hole.<br>"Why NOT?!"  
>No answer.<br>As David kept climbed further and further away, he couldn't help but ask-  
>"What do you want from me?"<br>Still no answer.  
>David felt a lot calmer after he seemingly stumped the voice.<br>Yet what David didn't expect was for the ledge to fall out from underneath him. He had moved too far off the ledge! How foolish of him not to realize!  
>As David fell, the screams reached his throat but stopped before they could exit his mouth. He knew that he would either fly or wake up before he would hit the ground.<br>There was no reason for him to be afraid.  
>A calming and soothing feeling ran through him, filling him with the warmth of the happy thoughts he had during the "discussion" with that man.<br>Then… it happened again.  
>David was sure of it… was he…? Was he truly FLYING?!<br>He wouldn't know, for another frustrating time, because by the time he could comprehend it…  
>He woke up. Again.<br>His head was still on the pillow. He leaned back up in his bed while his hair, moist with sweat, stuck to his forehead. He felt calmer now, since his body was not going into overdrive.  
>Then the horrible reality of where he was when he woke up sank in. He wasn't dreaming this. So he tried to avoid the unpleasant thoughts by pushing them into the recesses of his mind, like putting away toys into their respective cupboards.<br>But he couldn't. He looked out the window to the visible line of skyline from his bed to remember what the play was like and those daydreams. So he allowed himself to dream again, and lay back in bed to imagined what that world was like, not knowing whether or not he slept or not. Either way, he wanted to dream. It was where his lovely thoughts were.

The nun that woke up the boys early the next morning found David fast asleep with his arm dangling over the side. It was the first time in a long time when David needed help getting up from bed, be it with a shake or a sprinkle of water. As he looked around for Sister Deborah but she was nowhere to be seen, for some odd reason. Usually this would trouble him, but after all the time of being alone it didn't bother him.  
>He was escorted from the Church to the Priests antechamber, shrouded in dark reds and shadows mixed with the colors of books and candlelight. His desk was cleared save for a small pencil and paper. The huge chair was empty and the room smelled of talcum powder.<br>Then Father Priest glided in with an upturned cowl and cold eyes. He was a true grown-up in David's eyes; cold, calculating and always ready to strike.  
>"Pick up the pad boy," He began. "This shall be your first lesson."<br>He slowly picked it up with his thin hands. It was a thin pad, with only a few sheets of paper.  
>"Take the pen! And make sure to write everything I say." Father scolded. David helplessly looked at the pen, gripped in his fist upside down so the point was up. All he knew was to make marks with the pointed edge, but he didn't know how to write. Should he tell him?<br>"The reason why I picked you to become my pupil is not you're concern. Here's the main point: when I'm finished teaching you everything I know, you will be a light onto this Holy Nation. Let us begin…  
>"Childishness is against the laws of the Lord, our G-d. It says in Psalms 37, phrase 25:'I was a youth and also have aged'. Age is the perfection of man, as the Son was older than Isaac when he was sacrificed for our sins, as it says…"<br>David tried frantically to make some sense of it all, as he continued about how being a delinquent –like David was over the past few months- was evil in the eyes of the Lord, how if it wasn't for Father he would be eternally doomed and how to fix himself.  
>"And so, dearest David, that concludes our first lesson. Put down your paper and pen and leave them on my desk.<br>The boy froze in the chair, the hairs on his neck up and quivering. He hadn't written anything down, just a bunch of incoherent scribbles. Ichabod was going to teach him to read and write but-  
>"Put the pad down, child. You can go after that."<br>David looked up at him, his light hazel eyes reflecting off of his dark brown ones.  
>"Give. Me. The. Pad." Father insisted.<br>Any confidence he had before was drained from the beginning. He felt any cool breeze on his face as a chilling blast. He was so shamed that he trembled when he returned the pad to him.  
>Father's eyes widened as he looked at the mess of a handwriting. What a waste of perfectly good paper!<br>"What's this?! What is- David! Tell me…"  
>He shoved the paper into his pale face.<br>"What Does This Say?!"  
>It was a scribble filled with loops and crossing lines.<br>"I…I don't know-"  
>"And this?! What does it mean?!"<br>David never felt so shamed in his life. He felt sobs coming up.  
>"I DON'T KNOW!"<br>Father retaliated. A smack upside the head knocked David completely by surprise onto the floor.  
>"How dare you, speaking to me that way. You're lucky to be alive because of me! I am saving your soul! Damnation is not a matter to tamper with, you mutt! I'm trying to help you, and all you give me is this- this chicken scratch?!"<br>He tore the paper out of the pad, ripped it up and threw the pieces on the boy, who was crouched on the floor, his hands over his shaking head, as if that would help defend against the onslaught.  
>"I shouldn't have picked you. I shouldn't have let them raise you, giving your tiny mongrel life a chance and letting that disgrace of a Nun raise you! You are nothing and will always BE nothing in the eyes of everyone else! And now you face damnation or finding the savior." He circled around the little boy, like the prey he had months ago.<br>"Was I wrong? Should I have let you die?"  
>He was holding back tidal waves of sobs as he replied with any amount of dignity left: "N-n-no Father."<br>"Was I wrong to have picked you?"  
>Father bent down over the boy in condescending fashion. David didn't know it at the time, but Father wasn't motivating him. He was breaking him.<br>"N-n-no, Father."  
>He picked up the boy by an ear, relishing in the vulnerability, pain, and pure shame covering his face.<br>"You will show up later today for the next lesson. I don't care how sick you are, I don't care how sad you are, I certainly don't care about the fact that you cannot write. You will hear what I say and you will remember it for your sake. Otherwise, you will stay here making stupid little cars for children that have families you wish you could have in this world. Understand, boy?"  
>David was vainly trying to get out of Father's painful grip and out of the room. He experienced enough torture.<br>"Y-Yes Father."  
>"Good. See you after lunch. I expect you on time, boy, or else."<br>He was shoved out of the chamber with a slamming thud behind him. He heard the door lock faintly behind him as he ran to Sister Deborah's office.  
>When she didn't answer the door, he banged on it twice.<br>"OPEN UP, SISTER! PLEASE! I need you…"  
>Yet that was all it took to push the hard, wooden door slightly open. He didn't know that it was unlocked- yet he was used to it being locked when she wasn't there. Why would she be hiding from him? Maybe she was sent on an errand…<br>He walked into the dimly lit room and noticed how it looked like she was just there a minute ago. Books were open on the desk, as well as an unfinished glass of water with a trail of drops where she drank from. As he sat in the opposite chair, he felt the wood warming him better than the plush cushion he was disciplined on just before.  
>And with that warmth came a bit of happiness with it. Then he felt like being more curious. He looked behind the desk, where there were small drawers going down the sides.<br>There wasn't much to see in some of them- just more books and papers from the Police Department regarding some of the children, Birth Certificates, Adoption papers and the like, he didn't expect to find what was in the last drawer on the left. As he pulled it open, he saw one of the crudest looking pan flutes he's ever seen. On it was a tag: David's first flute.  
>She kept my first toy? She really does care!<br>He felt so happy as he held it in his cupped hands while cross-legged on the floor of the warmest place in all of London. He found himself putting his fingers on random holes and his mouth to its lips, hearing whatever notes came out. It was a small tune, but he heard it like a fire, warming him up from head to toe. Just playing those small chords made him remember: Peter had a flute too.  
>Then he remembered Neverland. And never growing up. And flying. And sword-fighting. And no grown-ups. And a family. Not his parents, but the Lost Boys. And fairies and mermaids.<br>He looked down at the flute then around at the room, until he found a long enough piece of string. He tied a knot on each side of the flute, then put it around his neck, beneath his uniform. He was going to escape again and find a way there. And if anything mattered to him more, he didn't know what it was. Because that one thought of everything he dreamed of would be enough to get him there. Little did he know, that he had that destiny- all he had to do was to take it.


	12. Chapter 12

He returned to the room immediately from Sister Deborah's office, disregarding his empty, growling stomach. He was ready to defy his teacher. In his eyes, Father Kenneth was a true grown-up; cold, calculating and always ready to strike. Yet he if he was going to make it to Neverland, he had to be strong enough to face the toughest grown-ups. He knocked on the hard wooden door, waited for him to be beckoned in, and slowly and methodically closed the door behind him. He took the pad and paper off of the desk and sat down before Father could command him.

"I didn't tell you to sit down yet. Stand, little orphan."

He stopped mid-action and slowly stood up. His eyes were still focused on the wooden floor he curled up on just a few minutes ago. He didn't notice Father Kenneth's satisfied grin, his anticipation in grinding the boy down even more. He didn't know where David had been.

"You may now sit, boy. Let us continue. I have tried to teach you about why you must throw away any chance of staying young, as it is against the religion you have returned to…"

David didn't even look up. He stared at the ground, filled with shadows and the flickering light from the candles. He wasn't rattled by his problem of penmanship. He rather heard everything he had said, and to him, it just wasn't as much fun to him.

"… Now I shall tell you what you have in store for yourself, now that you have been given the opportunity to become a priest. The greatest men in history were teachers and Saints that took the burden of the world on their shoulders, staying away from the temptations to atone for their existence on The Lord, our Savior's world. It is our duty to be the guardians of this world, of its men and women."

He barely had any emotion as he spoke, draining all possible excitement David could have had at his involuntary prospect.

"You will be sheltered here or the same reason why all men should. The world is a dark and dangerous place, as you know. People without any code of honor roam the streets, killing and stealing from each other. Now, speak only truths; where did you sleep when you were out there, David?"

He expected to hear all of the places he slept before he got to Ichabod's store, but the last place he slept was-

"Where I had a roof over my head."

This took Father aback and enflamed him.

"Stupid boy! I ask where you slept when you were on the outside of St. Augustine's!"

"That's what I said, Father. Before I came here, I slept somewhere with a roof over my head. And a lot of books too."

Hearing that caused Father Kenneth to lose his momentum. He had to choose another approach to keep him in the rut he so effortlessly did just before. His temples started to ache, and rubbing his fingers to them didn't help.

"Alright…David, I see that you are… too foolish. That's why I had to take you away from that outside world, from the jail you got yourself into in this world and the Hell you could have gotten into in the next. You needed salvation and in your foolishness you sought other refuges, none of the truths!

"After all, it was only a matter of time before you decided to come back- you did so before. Which is why you had to not only have better supervision when you got back, but preparations were to be made earlier on…"

Here was the kicker. He knew the events that transpired: He knew she sought out other Churches behind all of their backs because she was too weak for his commands. Even the fact that a family had specifically asked for the boy that had tried to escape some months back. But David didn't.

"After all, why do you think Sister Deborah left you here? And that we gave that boy that was with you up for adoption that same day? You needed to be ready when you got back…"

But this had the reverse effect. He expected David to cry or curl up in a tight ball like he did last time. Yet there he sat, like nothing happened, like whatever he had said went through one ear and out the other.

"So what? She wasn't my mother anyway. She said that so herself. I always thought she was until I realized I didn't need one." He looked up at him with incurious eyes, with a twinge of satisfaction after seeing Father Kenneth's eyes stare back .

"That boy you mentioned- Were you talking about George? Him? I was only scared because he was my only way of living on the outside. I can handle myself now actually, maybe better without him. Why are you so quiet all of a sudden, Father? Was it something I said?"

Unbeknownst to him, this whole reaction took Father Kenneth so far off guard, he might as well have fallen off his high tower. The boy had become so incredibly heartless in such a short amount of time that he didn't know what to say next. He broke him… in record time! He felt filled with glee as he looked down on his handiwork, his prodigy with strawberry blonde hair and hazel eyes.

He began to teach him more and more, as if the boy wasn't learning enough. But he didn't realize what kind of heartlessness David was feeling. Never would he have expected that the little orphan was not paying attention at all; he was planning a way to escape the clutches of St. Augustine's for good.


	13. Chapter 13

He counted ten new faces amongst the other boys at recess. He didn't know what they were told about him, but he could only guess them; that he was diseased, one side effect being a change in his hair and eyes; that he wasn't forced to work like the rest of them; he left and came back without any problem. But they were all looking at him.

All ten boys looked straight at him while he gazed at the fence. He felt them coming towards him, as a pack of wolves. Someone told them that he was someone unusual enough to be the perfect target.

But he didn't care.

He wasn't looking beyond the fence this time. He was looking up, where the black bars touched the heavens and must have dissuaded many a child from escaping. It was the only way. When he was at prayers in the Church, he saw that the doors were bolted shut; before he returned from Sister Deborah's office, he saw that the broken door at the side entrance of the orphanage was fixed to need a key to leave it. The huge doors at the front were guarded by two burly policemen armed with sticks, like cavemen in uniform.

The only way to get out was up.

"Oy, priest! Looking for the lord?!"

He turned to see who said that. Only one boy of the four was brave enough to come closest. He was taller than David, with a big overbite and dark brown hair. And cold, blue eyes.

But instead of stuttering, he let out an over-exaggerated, exasperated sigh.

"Can you please just give me a moment? I'm not in the mood for this. I'm trying to-"

"Oh!" The boy recoiled dramatically. "He's not in the bloody mood?!"

He turned to the other boys as they all laughed hysterically.

"Not in the mood for a good smacking to take you off of your high place? Think you're better than the rest of us, staring at books while we work our bloody arses off for bread?"

David was at a loss for words while other boys began to notice. As he saw the sticks and stones the three others carried, he realized that this whole scenario was not going to end well. Then he saw the head boy clench a fist.

"Go ahead, priest. Preach peace to us. Let's see how that works."

He looked up one last time. He found the best space to use. He looked back at the boys as they inched closer.

"Sorry boys," He smugly grinned, "but I have an outside to get to."

He leapt up as high as he could, arms stretched way over his head. His left hand slipped, but his right hand gripped the cold bar with all its might. He was still in range of the tallest boy's grip. He swung his legs over to the left and wedged his left foot in a higher hole in. As he began to climb, some boys began throwing rocks while others cheered; they didn't know what to think. No one they remembered had climbed the fence before.

The administering Nuns gasped in horror as the protégé reached the top of the fence. At the time the guards came, most of the boys were cheering him on. He couldn't believe he was so close to escaping. It had seemed so easy.

Then he looked down. The fence had jutted up high above the trees and even further than the street walk. Then the guards decided not to come through the playground but to the other side, the side of freedom. He began to feel a panic as he tried to think what would happen if he tried to reach for the trees a daring jump away.

_David, don't you remember?_

A puzzled look grew on his face. The voice; it sounded like a younger boy, definitely not like him.

_There's always a way. There's always another way…_

Then he felt it again. The rush. The calm breeze. It came all the way over him, warming him against the cold bars. Then the bars didn't feel cold anymore. He didn't feel any of the bruises forming from the rocks.

Then his hands felt tingly. As he looked at them, he noticed golden dust forming around his fingerprints. Then he looked down again at the ground. To his eyes, it felt like it was a short jump. And the guards were nothing but worthless grown- ups.

He climbed up on the fence, higher than the trees, the skyline filling his view. The sun was blocked by clouds brought in by harsh gusts of wind. It felt like a storm was coming, but he only felt the calmest of breezes. All that filled his mind was one calming thought.

_This is the other way_.

He closed his eyes and jumped off. He felt the wind rush through his hair as he was pulled towards the ground… then horizontally, as if there was a rope pulling him across the sky. By the time he tumbled to a stop he was more than a stone throw away.

_Did I just…fly?!_

While he had somehow glided to safety, the only people who knew wanted him back where he came from. He turned away from the screams and gasps of amazement as he vanished into the alleyways in front of him; into the world he only saw from the other side.


	14. Chapter 14

David slipped through the alleyways, making every sharp turn possible, until he was sure the guards wouldn't find him, or even catch up. As he stopped to take a breather, he realized that he had no idea where he was going. As exhilarating as it felt to escape into this side of the orphanage, this was all new to him. Even the streetlamps, dark and asleep during the day, looked like they were staring at him, trying to make sense of him. He had to get out of there fast, but he couldn't back track. The Orphanage was somewhere back there. So he kept moving until the sun was way past the horizon, making any turn that didn't lead to a dead end and any attempt at using the stars for navigation.

Yet the stars led him to a familiar place; a street corner near the…theater. The theater! Where the play was! Where he found Neverland… Wait! Ichabod must be nearby!

Last time he was here, they had rushed back home together so fast that he barely remembered how to get back. But small things lit his way; a streetlamp, a familiar flowerpot in the windowsill, an odd looking wooden door, and then the familiar street sign that hung in front of the store's alleyway. While it could have been easier to just knock on the front door, next to the store's window, he decided to surprise him. He past the alleyway entirely and found one of the shortcuts he had found with Oliver before, and entered the garden, lit by a sole lamp whose orange light towered over the whole place and shone like a second sun, to where the store was. As bright as the sun in the garden was, it didn't shine on the burly looking men knocking on the other door.

He rapped at the door on the other side, to the dismay of the owner inside. The boy heard the usual grumblings of the old man coming, the creaking of the wood underfoot coming closer to the entrance. But unlike what he expected, Ichabod only opened the door a crack.

"Who is- David?! What are you doing here?!"

This took him aback.

"Uh… Ichabod?"

He saw that the old man looked urgent, the streetlight glinting off of his urgent eyes and their supporting bags.

"Get out of here! Go! Before you're caught! They came for you! GO!"

David's eyes grew with his curiosity. One the other hand, his mind was begging his body to move.

"Ichabod, what's going on?! Why are you-"

Then the old man, in a flash of epiphany, retreated inside the store.

"There's no…time to lose. Where is it? Wait there a moment… I have something to give you… Ah! Here it is!"

He stuck his head out of the crack of the door again, this time holding a sheath.

"You earned this sword. Use it to defend yourself. Now, get out of here! Go!"

As he turned away from the old man one last time, he could have sworn he heard the man say, "Fly, son of Pan!", before the other door burst open.

The burly men, dressed in ripped sailor uniforms and mismatched garments from every corner of the world, sprinted through the store, knocking Ichabod away and bursting into the courtyard, only to find a small boy running to the exit. Their target was getting away.

David looked back to see the two men charging towards him, at a supernatural pace. They looked strange, like the pirates from the play and were gaining on him fast. The light was behind them, so he couldn't tell if they were armed, yet they would've shot him if they had guns. He had no chance but to face them. He tied the hilt to his waist and unsheathed the sword. The blade was light and slick, the hilt a worn-out wooden finish that seemed to grow onto the metal and leave intricate markings running up to the tip. It would have to do, even though David would rather keep it beautiful.

He took the stance Ichabod taught him while they lunged at him in unison. The one on the right jumped first, arms outreached without any weapon; they were trying to take him alive. That burly man would be the first target.

He ducked down underneath his jump arc and slashed at the man's arms, landing on his right forearm and slicing as hard as he could. The blade whizzed so fast he heard it whistle subtlety as he felt it strike true. The man tumbled awkwardly in front of him, gripping his bloody arm. The other man, slightly leaner but more patient, unsheathed his own sword and reached the boy. Their blades met in a thunderous collision, reflecting the streetlight like it was lightning. They each gained momentum over the other and then lost it. For the pirate, this boy was someone special. No amount of training could have prepared him for this.

But then David started feeling tired. After not eating since the sun was in the sky, his body was running on something other than adrenaline. Not only that, but they both knew that David's high from beating the other pirate was wearing off; he was feeling afraid. David had to get out of there- fast.

He turned the pirate away from the exit of the courtyard, pushing him far enough to have a head start to get out of there and hide. The first second he was able to leave, he turned away from the fight and started a mad dash to the exit but not before the man tried to slash at him but only to hit the ground where he had stood a second before. But he hit something else that was just as important. Yet David didn't know that as he forced his body to rush forward into the dark London ahead, which was covered in storm clouds and a big chance of torrential downpours.

By the time he checked his surroundings, it felt like he had been running all night long. The only light came from the windows and occasional streetlights, the skyline covered up by dark clouds and flashes of lightning.

Then there was a gap, about as wide as David's fist, like a portal through the clouds. Brilliantly bright stars glowed through the hole, like diamonds on black fabric. Yet it wasn't long before, in that hole in the sky, he saw something new; a brilliantly lit comet streaked across the sky and left a brilliant tail of light and a look of awe on his face.

He thought that he read somewhere that if one sees something like that, they should make a wish, in a special poem so it will understand. Who knew, maybe it was a fairy in disguise? Or maybe that's what second to the right was; the name of a star!

He looked through the hole again, with its shimmering lights and distant moonlight shining through onto the street, closed his eyes and, with a deep breath, made his wish:

_Second to the right, shining bright, won't you grant my wish tonight?_

_If I can't find Peter Pan, help me get to Neverland._

He stood there and watched the hole close up as it passed over him, satisfied that he took the opportunity to make his first wish since his last birthday. He hoped this one would come true; last time he had wished for his own bicycle.

"**You**, boy! **Who are you and where did you come from**?"

Was that…_the man from the dream?! _David froze. He slowly turned around to see who it was. It was site both calming and fearful. A policeman, heavyset with a small beard, slowly approached the boy as he twirled his baton.

David didn't give himself time to think. He ran for it, zooming down the street away from him. The policeman didn't have a chance, and David passed the corner and over the bridge even after he realized that. Meanwhile, the sky became dark, as drops of rain hit the ground. The policeman turned away to go look for some shelter.

But David kept running, and never looked back to see if he was near. The sky rumbled, more rain came down, yet David kept running. The rain became a downpour; he kept running. He wasn't even running from the law anymore; he was running from his old life, from everything he had supposedly held dear, from the place that once was so warm and inviting to being so dark and cold, that he would never want to go near there ever again.

He was so concentrated on running that it took a few blocks for David to realize his condition. His clothes were so soaked they stuck to his skin, water was inside his shoes, and he was freezing.

He was already sleep-deprived and starving. Now he was freezing. He needed some shelter, fast.

Then something kicked in. It felt like a sort of pull towards a particular house. He kept running past house after house until he found one that looked familiar. And it had a big arch over the door, beckoning him to seek some dry ground. So without a care in the world of being caught by a policeman, he stumbled up to the arch and collapsed onto the three stairs, the sensation of being somewhere dry exciting him just a bit. The moment after he sat on the three stairs, he felt a wave of sleep come over him. So poor lonely David, soaked and shivering, curled up and fell asleep the moment his head touched the top step.


	15. Chapter 15

That morning, a girl looked out her window and wished on the murky clouds that today would be special. Ever since she turned 13, she hoped for just something else to happen; just one time for the day to be different. It never was before. Father would go to work while dropping off her older brother Henry at the locksmith's store. Then she'd leave her mother at home to school and after she came back, Mother would lovingly send her on various errands, the most exciting ones being by the changes of season.

. As she tied her flowing brown hair together in a ponytail, she gave herself a good look in the mirror. She always wanted to have what they called a 'kiss'; a little smirk on the side of the mouth that made it look like you were always happy. She saw herself becoming a woman just like her mother. Well, maybe her but not like her completely; she wouldn't want to be stuck in a house for the rest of her life, except to go out to fancy parties or to other families for visits, and just do hundreds of chores around the house. It was a different story, however, to want the grace and warmth that came with a kiss.

Meanwhile, she always hoped that maybe Father would announce that he had the money to take the whole family on a trip to some exotic location, or that he had made a new invention, or that Mother would be invited to tea with the Queen, or that Henry would brighten up and talk to her more often, especially when he came home with Father. It never happened; Father was so busy with other work that he hadn't even thought of an invention for quite some time, Mother only got invited to neighbor's houses –some more posh and fancy than others, but never the Queen- and Henry still barely talked to her, buried in his own studies and plans to go to university.

Yet at the Robertson household, everything was going normally, to her chagrin; Mother would come down early, her face already showing a mix of determination and grace, almost immediately before Father would. As she readied breakfast, he would organize his work papers and fix up his suit, making it look like it is only a few years younger than it really was. He would glance at his watch and alert the children, by yelling up the stairs, how much time they had to come down. Henry usually passed Elizabeth down the stairs, as the lanky 16- year old boy rushed down as fast as possible to follow the command of his father; she usually came down last, almost as if not wanting the next day to start.

They usually ate together, before father and son had to leave for work and, later, Elizabeth to school. Yet, as they left, moving towards the door, Elizabeth, for the first time in a while, decided to look to the door as they left. Then suddenly, the men gasped and jumped back in surprise! Mother rushed to the door, Elizabeth right behind her. The street outside was still wet as the rain turned into a mist.

What was on their doorstep surprised everyone. A boy –who appeared to be soaked to the bone, his damp blonde hair stuck to his head - was laying on their doorstep. He even shivered in his sleep- the poor thing! Father stood there, just staring at the boy, unsure of what to do. Mother reached down to gather the soaked child inside, but Father stopped her.

"My dear, are you mad? We don't know what he might have! You know of the diseases going around London- he could have one, and you know you wouldn't want one of them around the house! And look at his clothes- he's an orphan too! Who knows what he's really like? He could be a delinquent or a thief or a-"

Mother gave him a look. "Look dear, regardless of who he is or where he's from, it would be a sin to leave him out there. We must help him- look how sick he looks. He's even shivering! What a poor little boy."

Father was convinced, and picked the boy off the steps.

Mother immediately made sure that the boy was warmed up immediately; the wet clothes came off, he was put into a bath to be warmed and clean, and dressed into dry clothes before put into the guest room bed, warmed by any extra quilts they had. Father had to leave for work with Henry, so she took care of everything, including getting the doctor. What was so scary about the situation was that the boy was barely conscious throughout the whole ordeal. Mother even said that he spoke in his sleep, something like "what do you want from me?" or, as she put him into the bed "You don't scare me."

As she fetched the doctor, Elizabeth was told to watch David, which she did gladly. Yet as she sat there, next to the bed, she saw him move a little bit. His eyes fluttered as his body seemed to wake up.

Then he noticed that he wasn't wearing his own clothes, but rather saggy ones, that there were a lot of sheets on him, he was in a strange room and-

A stranger was watching him! He gave a frightened scream, and leapt out of the bed in order to get out of the house-or wherever he was-, regardless of how sick he felt. Elizabeth was so surprised that she almost didn't stop him from reaching the door.

"What are you doing?! Are you mad? You need to get better!"

David tried to get past her, but she was older than he was, and he felt so sick. He gave up almost immediately, crawled to the corner and curled up, his head in his skinny arms, tightly packed with fear. After seeing this, Elizabeth, in an act so unnatural to her, went up to the boy and crouched down near him.

In the kind of warm voice she tried so hard to copy from her mother, she said, "My name is Elizabeth, Robertson. What is yours?" He looked up at her. He looked terrible; his face and lips were pale, his eyes shrouded in darkened bags and he coughed frequently. Her warm voice made him feel more comfortable.

"Dav'd."

"What?"

He coughed. "D-David."

"David… what?"

"That's it. J-Just David."

A boy with only one name? How very unusual! As if the rest of him wasn't unusual enough. She had never seen a boy like him before; he had dark-red hair, while she was used to darker colors of brown black. He continued to cough, while Elizabeth watched him from a distance.

"I'm sorry I scared you," She began.

"It was the right thing of you to come to us. Father is a very generous man. He always brings back one of his poor friends to stay for the night. That is why we had to get a house with an extra room, see. We actually moved a few years ago, and nowadays he doesn't have that many people over anymore, not since he got a better job."

She took one of the quilts off of the bed and laid it on David, still rolled up in the corner. He could only eke out a small "thank you" before he tucked himself in it, his head across his folded arms.

"Mother took care of you while Father left with my older brother. You should have seen our faces. We all nearly fainted after seeing you. You looked like you were… dead!"

After warming up more, he said, in a hoarse voice, "Your father sounds like a nice man. So does your mother. Not sure about your brother, though."

"You mean Henry?"

"Who?"

"My brother, Henry. He's very secluded, very shy. He'll like you… I'm sure."

Then he coughed, and the noise made him realize how sick he was. "I really doubt it. I don't act well when I'm sick."

"You'll be fine. Mother knows one of the best doctors in this part of London. I'm sure he could help you. I think I just heard the door open. Yes, I think that's him."

Sure enough, Mrs. Robertson came up with someone who definitely seemed to be a doctor, at least he looked like it. What was most intriguing was that David recognized the doctor; he used to be called in for sick children in the orphanage, which used to be David on a perennial basis. He just hoped the doctor didn't recognize him.

"Thank you so much for coming doctor, especially on such short notice. This boy looks to be very sick. We weren't sure what he has."

"Not a problem, Mrs. Robertson… Is that the boy?" He noticed David sitting in the corner, while Elizabeth sat on the bed nearby.

"Very interesting place to put a sick child, no?" He facetiously asked Mother.

"Oh, of course not. He must have moved there by himself. Didn't he Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Mother. He likes tight spaces."

_She didn't even mention that I tried to leave. _David looked to Elizabeth with amazed eyes.

"Well then, I can't examine a patient while he's sitting tight like that. Let's bring him over to the bed and see what we're dealing with."

So David willingly moved to the bed and the doctor examined him. He checked David and after some time gave a prognosis; he had the flu, which only needed time and rest for it to go away. The doctor suggested some medicine to help with the symptoms.

"Some nice tea with honey should help the throat, but you already knew that."

"Yes, Doctor. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Yet as the Doctor turned he asked one more question.

"One more thing. Is that your boy, Madam? I've never seen him before."

Mother was startled a little bit. "Uh-well, um… Yes, we just adopted him. In fact, they gave him to us like this. How ungrateful!"

"So," The Doctor asked. "What is his name?"

Mother sounded like she was going to give some other name, but Elizabeth stepped in.

"David. His name is David Robertson." Elizabeth stood next to her mother.

She sounded grateful. "Yes, yes, right. His name is David Robertson," She said, her strong hand now resting on her daughter's shoulder.

"Well, I hope you enjoy him after he gets better. I'll come back later for the check." He tipped his hat as he left.

"Good day, M'ladies." He said as they walked him out into the London mist. They simultaneously let out a breath a few moments after he left.

"Liza," Mother turned to her, "you better get to school now. I'll send you on my word that you should be excused."

"Yes, Mother, Thank you." She replied as she gathered her book together.

"David Robertson. Sounds like a very nice name." she smiled to Elizabeth before she went to the kitchen to get some tea for the guest, repeating the name to herself a couple of times, almost soothing to her.

_Maybe I got my wish after all, _she thought as she went on her way to school.


End file.
